Justice for the Old and the New
by yawhtevr
Summary: This is a Glades, Justified, Highlander Crossover. It is set in the immediate aftermath of the end of the Glades TV series. Detective Longworth had been shot and left for dead in the new house he had just purchased as a wedding gift to Callie. I would love feedback on how close I am to capturing the established characters and how you like the storyline.
1. Chapter 1 - The Crime Scene

The crime scene was at once chaotic and ordered. Carlos Sanchez, Chief Medical Examiner, Best Man, sat in a daze against the far wall of the living room. He absently noted the 20 or so police and crime scene techs methodically going about their jobs. When he and Michael Longworth arrived at the front of the house he knew something was wrong. At that same moment his cell phone rang.

"Colleen, somethings wrong. Send backup." He stammered as he climbed out of the car.

Her reply was a terse professionally bland and emotionless reply. "It's already on its way. What is the situation?"

"The front door is open. No lights on inside." He noted as he cautiously made his way up the sidewalk. Michael Longworth jogged up the path radiating worry and concern.

"Jimmy? Jimmy are you in there?" Michael Longworth called as he entered the house. "Jimmy, we are all a little worried here. Where are…"

That's the moment Carlos knew. He had barely set one foot in the house and he knew. He could smell the blood and feces. His heart rate doubled as he instinctively flicked on the nearest light.

"Oh god! Jimmy. Oh god, no. No. No." Michael Longworth collapsed on floor next his sons lifeless form. His hands hovering a foot over the body. Fingers spread in apparent indecision of where to touch first. He was reaching down as Carlos roughly grabbed with both arms around the chest and bodily hauled him back.

"You can't touch him." He barked.

"Jimmy!" Michael Longworth screamed. "Jimmy!" He struggled in Carlos's arms. "Let Go! Jimmy!"

"If you touch him, it could contaminate the scene and we won't be able to find who did this. Do you here me? We have to find who did this." Both men fell in a heap onto the floor ten feet from the body. Carlos held Michael Longworth in that position until the uniforms and Manus arrived. That had been hard. Yet Carlos hadn't had to tell Callie. He hadn't had to stop her from entering the house. He heard her calling. He heard her cries of terror and pain. His soul hurt. He had seen hundreds of dead bodies. Had visited hundreds of crime scenes. He had never had a personal connection like this. A small detached part of him chided his sometimes cavalier attitude towards the deceased. It was a job. He was good at it. But he never understood the pain it carried until now. The pain he would carry with him from now on.

Colleen Manus approached with a short latin man at her side. "Carlos, this is Alfonso.." Manus began.

"No." Carlos broke in. "I know Alfonso, and no. I will take him back not Alfonso."

"Thats not protocol." Alfonso stated.

Carlos stood and focus his gaze on the man. "I don't give a shit. I am taking him back. Nobody else." Carlos stated flatly.

"Ok. Ok. Carlos can take him back." Manus agreed. She turned her gaze onto Alfonso forestalling the objection forming on his tongue. "You can help."

Carlos closed his eyes and took three deep breaths. When he opened his eyes again. He was simply the Chief Medical Examiner at another crime scene. The most important crime scene he had ever worked. "Lets get to work. I want to get him back to the lab and see what we can find."

—

They had arrived at the FDLE lab at 2:47am. The crime scene had been processed very efficiently. Very thoroughly. The team had been meticulous and hyper focused on their tasks. The collection of the body and its transportation was equal parts efficient, professional, and reverent. Carlos made a note to send a very heartfelt thank you to the team and a special thanks to Alfonso. He gazed at the zippered black bag laying motionless before him. The office was awash with people. Carlos was tired. He was also profoundly heartbroken. Nothing in his life had prepared him for the sorrow he felt. But none of these were what he felt as he stood there gazing at the black bag. Carlos was a ball of barely contained overwhelming anger. They would find who did this. They had to find who did this.

He had to suppress his anger. He had to suppress every emotion he had contended with in past several hours. He closed his eyes and tried to push past his emotions to the dispassionate professional beneath. As he stood there he spoke aloud to himself as if giving sage advice to someone else in this situation. "You need to go home. You need to go home, grieve, focus, and then find who did this."

"I agree" a voice intoned.

Carlos snapped around his eyes wild in their search for the owner. Colleen Manus stood half in and half out of the door. "Its 3am. I was just about to tell you to do exactly that." She offered.

"Are you going home?" Carlos spat. He could not keep the angry contempt from gushing out.

Manus took a steady breath. "Yes. For the same reasons." Her eyes were instantly full of tears as her professional demeanor broke. Her face betraying her as shattered and disheveled human rather than the stoic professional she had somehow embodied since arriving at the scene. "I had to tell her Carlos." She choked. The tears now flowing unabated. "I had to tell her.." Carlos was there pulling her into an embrace. She stayed there for several long minutes loosing herself to her grief. Her face now buried in his chest. For his part, he held her there not giving into his grief. It was his time to project strength and hers to finally feel the pain.

"Alright." He whispered. "We were both right. We need to go home. Recharge so we can focus." As they walked down the hall the lights flickered and died. The emergency lights came on immediately after. They stopped and looked around then made their way through the labyrinth like hallways to the front of the building.

Manus had once again assumed a commanding presence. "What's going on?" she asked a uniformed officer who had just entered the building.

"Lots of lightening out there. Freak storm or something. Anyway, the transformers are all blown. Looks like the power is out for the whole block."

"Ok. Carlos, I need to go check into this. Please go home. I'll be right behind you as soon as I make sure this can all be handled by someone else."

"You sure? I can wait." He said

"I'm sure. I'll only be fifteen minutes and then I'll be out of here too." She then turned and bustled back towards her office. Carlos turned and walked out into the night.

—

Colleen finally walked to her car at 4:15am. She needed a shower and sleep. Though she was uncertain if the latter would come. She began to pull out of the parking lot when her phone rang. She stopped the car and rummaged through her purse for the phone narrowly catching it before the call was shunted to voicemail. "This is Manus" she stated flatly. The fatigue and frustration clearly evident.

"Director Manus, this is Marshal Tony Morales. I am the case officer assigned to Ray Cargill." The voice sounded a little shaken.

"Yes, I remember you." Her thoughts went wild. Ray Cargill had skipped out on his Witness Protection identity. But Jim had told her that he was still in Washington state.

"I was told that Detective Longworth, Jim, was shot and killed tonight. Is that true?" Morales's voice was most certainly shaken. Colleen had an idea where this was going and she didn't like it.

"Yes. Where is Ray Cargill?" She demanded.

The man on the phone audibly deflated. She could hear his shoulders slump and his posture drop as the confirmation of his worst fears washed over him. When he spoke his voice carried both regret and disbelief. "We don't know exactly. His credit card was last used at a road side motel. After I heard of Detective Longworth's death I asked some local Marshals to go grab him. Sometimes we have to give protectees a bit of space when emotional things are happening in families they can no longer have contact with. Its hard on them. But most come around and accept it." He paused and took a deep breath. "When the Marshals entered the room they found two men. Both obvious heroine addicts and neither one was Ray. They say a man gave them his credit card nearly two weeks ago in exchange for a motorcycle. We have no idea where Ray is." He stopped and waited on her response.

She sat motionless for long moments. "You think Ray killed Jim to stop him from taking his family?"

"I think it's possible. But its also possible that Ray was a victim too. One of the junkies, Samuel Mayfield has a Florida drivers license and a hell of a rap sheet. In fact Mayfield was released from prison few years ago. He was sent there after a trafficking arrest. He used to be muscle for a drug runner named Tommy Bucks. Bucks was a known associate of Gio Reyes. As you may know, Reyes has a history of cleaning up problems." Morales paused to make sure she was still following him.

"Why would Reyes have any interest in killing Jim?" She asked.

"Reyes is big time but he isn't the top of the tree. That honor goes to Guillermo Diaz Garcia. I'm told that Detective Longworth put his son Eduardo in prison. I know you have a lot on your plate but I want to bring by our lead investigator on all of this tomorrow. He's really good. I think he can help find who did this to Jim." Morales paused again trying to guess her thoughts.

"Ok, I'll be in around 9. Just promise you aren't going to walk in and declare this your case. That would cause a lot of resentment from the team. One of our own, one of our best was just killed. We want to hunt down this son of a bitch ourselves." Her voice was hard and determined. "We want to bring this person to justice. This person gets no deals and no protections for related testimony."

"Don't worry. Raylan doesn't want command of anything. He just wants to help find the killer. Just between us Director Manus, his version of Justice is exactly what these bastards deserve." Morales stated.

"Bastards? Plural?" She asked.

"Whoever pulled the trigger and whoever is hiding the guy that pulled the trigger." Morales said flatly. "If they knew before or know nw and don't call the cops. Screw 'em."

Colleen ended the call and sat motionless in her car for a long time. Then, she drove home to shower. On the way she thought of all the favors she was owed and how they could help find Jim's killer.

—

Colleen pulled back into the parking lot at just after 9. Carlos was just getting out of his car as well. "Did you sleep?" she asked.

"No. But I rested and I'm focused." Carlos responded.

Colleen had to admit, his eyes looked sharp and his body language was certainly determined. They talked as they walked towards the building. "Ok, I am setting up a task force from a few FDLE stations. Also, the Marshals called. They can't find Ray Cargill." She reported. Carlos stopped mid stride.

"They think he did this?" Carlos asked.

"It's a theory they are exploring. There are some other possibilities. They are sending over a couple of Marshals today to brief us and join the task force." She told him.

"Great. They have good resources. As long as they aren't taking over I welcome the help." Carlos said. They continued walking as they spoke. "I want to do a full autopsy today. Also, I thought of a few more things I want to check at the house. I'd like to take Daniel and some techs."

"Ok, I'll come with you. I need the morning to get the ground work started for the task force and reroute some outstanding cases to other stations. We have a team briefing at 11:30. You'll want to be there for that." She told him. They parted ways at the entrance and she made her way to her office. Every eye on the floor tracked her. She entered her office and composed herself quickly. Then turned and walked out to address the gathered staff. She couldn't keep her eyes from falling on Jim Longworth's office door. "Yesterday, one of our best was taken from us. We will find his killer. We will not rest until we do. I am setting up a task force …" Her speech was cut short by an angry Carlos Sanchez yelling from across the room.

"Where is he? What happened?" he was striding angrily towards her. "Who the hell took him? I told you I was doing the autopsy, no one else! Me!" Carlos was brimming with anger. His eyes bored into her and his teeth showing as he approached within a foot of her. "Where is he?" he spat.

"What are you talking about?" her confusion was palpable.

Carlos recognized the confusion and dialed back his aggression. "His body is gone. The lab is a mess and the body is gone." He said flatly. "You didn't know?"

Colleen froze and then the same unbridled anger rose from within her. "Who knows where Jim's body is?" she called scanning the crowded room for some signs of recognition. Nobody spoke. Colleen stormed to the front of the office with Carlos in tow. They rounded on the now panic looking receptionist. "Who came for Detective Longworth's body?" she questioned.

Two men stood a few feet away. One in a professional dark blue suit and one in jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat. The cowboy wore a gun at his hip and the circled star badge of the United States Marshal Service on his belt. Colleen instantly recognized Tony Morales and made the connection.

"Did we come at a bad time?" The cowboy said.

"Nobody came. Nobody that I know of." The receptionist made her way quickly to the desk and hastily grabbed the sign in sheet and scanned it. "Nothing here. Nobody came for him. The body, I mean."

Colleen looked up at the two Marshals. "Did you take him?" she half asked and half accused.

"Take who?" Morales asked. He look utterly confused. The cowboy just looked thoughtful, even calculating.

Colleen gazed at them with a hard eyed stare and then turned to Carlos, "Lets see the lab."

—

They stood outside the lab looking in. There half on and off the table was the black zippered body bag. It was unzipped and smears of congealed blood and other bodily fluids were spilled onto the floor. The clothes Longworth had worn were piled in a heap against the wall. A few foul looking towels were mixed in with them. Another pool of fresher looking blood lay on the other side of the table with another towel close to it. An instrument trey and scales typically used to weigh organs lay in strewn across the floor.

"Did you go in there?" Colleen asked Carlos.

"No" he responded. "No, I didn't really look at it until now. I just saw the body was gone and then I got really mad." He paused fully taking in the scene. "What the hell happened in there?"

"Someone cleaned the body and took it with them." The cowboy said.

"Why clean it? It would be faster to take the entire bag." Colleen observed.

" They had to make sure it was the right body or they didn't want the odor giving them away. Whichever, you now have a second crime scene." The cowboy said.

"Who are you?" asked Carlos.

"Rylan Givins, Marshals." The cowboy noted.

"Carlos, get the techs and start working the lab." She turned to the two Marshals "I need to go review the security cameras."

"It won't do you no good. They'll all be off or broken." Rylan prophesied.

True to his prediction the cameras recorded nothing past the freak lightening storm. A closer look proved them all, sixteen in total, to be shorted. That was a first. The IT tech was completely baffled. "There is just no way for this to happen. It's not just the cameras. The magnetic door locks were all offline. We can't even open the holding cell doors at the moment. It's just freakin' impossible!" the tech sounded just as frazzled as everyone else. Everyone except the cowboy.

"Well, look at it like this, things can't get any weirder." He said after the tech finished.

"Director Manus" the voice came from her office door. When she looked up a uniformed officer stood with a very puzzled look on his face. "We found a body behind the building." He said.

Colleen jumped up and began walking to the office door as she spoke. "Behind this building?"

"Yes ma'am. The thing is, its missing a head." The officer said in a haunted voice.

—

The body lay just at the tree line. Burned vegetation surrounded a 15 foot area around the body. The body itself was dressed in drab yet comfortable looking slacks and dark pullover shirt. Still grasped in the right had was an antique looking sword. The torso had three long gashes and what looked like a single large stab wound that went completely through piercing the heart in transit.

Carlos stood from a long examination of the body and walked back to speak to Colleen and the two Marshals. He looked even more confused by this than the scene in his lab. "First, the blood in the immediate area isn't enough to have come from both a severed head and a pierced heart. I estimate a single liter at most more likely it's less. Other than the neck wound the others show signs of healing. As much as a week for the two smaller slashes. I'll know more after I examine it in the lab." His face scrunched in deeper confusion. "The neck wound is cauterized. Completely cauterized. Something, presumably an axe or guillotine caught the neck between C5 and C6 at an angle that allowed the blade to barely graze the actual bone."

"So not the sword then" Colleen asked

"No. At least I don't think so. The head was severed in one stroke. Aside from needing an almost inhuman degree of accuracy you would also need some amazing strength. A headsman used to be considered good if he managed to sever a head in under three blows." He sighed. "The one thing I am certain of is that this is not Jim Longworth."

"What about the burned grass and trees?" Colleen asked quietly.

Carlos walked them back over to the body. As he knelt he spoke. "Yeah, thats odd. The grass beneath the body isn't burned. That suggests that the body was here when the lightening happened. But, the patch of ground under his lower legs is burnt. But there aren't any burn marks on the trousers or shoes." Carlos finished.

"How is that possible?" Colleen asked.

Carlos and Raylan answered the question together. "Its not."

Carlos rose and shook his head. "The scene tells two stories. It's going to take time to figure out which one is right."

"But there is a chance the this body was placed here around the time Jim's body was taken, right?" Colleen asked.

Again, both Raylan and Carlos answered in Unison. "Yes."

Raylan wiped the perspiration from his brow as he spoke. "It could have been a distraction. It might give them the time to steal Longworth. It just wasn't needed."

Carlos nodded. "Yeah, thats what I was thinking."

"Yeah, and now I have a 3rd crime scene." Manus reflected.

"Ill get this one transported to the Miami Coroners Office. I'll go with it and get started on the autopsy as quickly as I can." Carlos strode off to coordinate with his team and Colleen beckoned the two marshals to follow.

Once back in the detectives bull pin Manus played out the known facts and speculations to the team. "Obviously somebody is afraid we would find something to connect them to Jim's murder. If Carlos hadn't shown up when he did they would probably have disposed of the body and we wouldn't have as much to go on. Which, isn't all that much. But, we know they are afraid of us. They should be. We will find these people and they will pay. I'll give you all your assignments as soon as I have them." As the team dispersed Colleen noticed Daniel Green scribbling furiously on a note pad. She walked over and put a hand on his should. "Daniel, are you ok?"

He stopped writing and sat rigidly, unmoving. "No. I don't think so. I'm really, really angry."

Colleen spoke softly, "I know. Don't let it overwhelm you. Use it. The body we found behind the building had a sword of some kind. It looks like some kind of an antique. Can you research it for me?"

Daniel turned to look at her through wattery eyes. He nodded once got up to go find the sword. Colleen walked back to where the Marshals stood waiting.

Morales spoke first. "I am going to fly to Washington and speak with the two suspects there. I'll coordinate with Marshal Givins and update you when I have more."

Rylan spoke next. "I'm gonna head over to the murder scene and poke around. I know your gonna want to talk to the family in the next day or two. I would like to tag along."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. A marshal being there will definitely upset them. Callie is smart and she'll figure out why your involved pretty quick." Colleen stated.

"Does she know her ex-husband is in the wind?" Raylan asked.

"No. Jim wanted to wait until after the wedding to tell her." Colleen smiled a sad smile. "He didn't want to ruin her day with worry."

"Yeah." Rylan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "The thing is, I need to ask them some questions. The boy especially. Now, I think that might be easier to do while you speak with the mother. I know its a… sensitive situation. But, I have to talk to Jeff."

Colleen nodded slightly. Then closed her eyes and nodded again more resolutely. "Ok. If it helps find those responsible." She opened her eyes and look hard into Raylans eyes. "It's going to be rough. Jeff is going to want to protect his dad and help find Jim's killer. Please go as easy as you can with him."

Rylan returned her gaze cooly. "Give me a call when your ready to go. I'll be nice."


	2. Chapter 2 - The Strangest People

As Raylan turned down the street he noticed a rental car parked along the street in front of the house Detective Longworth was killed in. He pulled up behind the rental, turned off the engine and sat still for a moment. There were no other cars parked along the street. It was highly unlikely this car was parked here by accident. He got out and walked up to looking in the car. An oversized leather computer case sat in the front seat along with an empty Nikon camera bag. He pulled out his cell phone and called Manus.

"You have anyone at the Longworth crime scene taking pictures?" he asked as soon as she answered.

"No. Why do you ask?" She said

"I'll let ya know." He replied. He could almost here her protesting "wait" as he disconnected. He put his phone away and walked casually up front walk taking in the look of the house. How the hell did a cop afford this place? It had to be seven or eight hundred grand. He needed to look into that. As he approached the front door he noticed that is slightly open. He placed his on the butt of his gun but left it holstered at his hip. With his left hand he gently pushed the door open. Thankfully, there was no telltale squeak. The hinges allowed the door to swing silently open. He eased his way in towards the kitchen stopping to listen and look as he moved. Someone was taking pictures. He peered around the corner and paused. He could not believe his eyes. He moved at a slow walk into the kitchen and was just a few feet from the man when he spoke. "Art?"

Art Mullins simultaneously spun around and moved backwards away from the voice. His right hand dropped his hip for a nonexistent gun while his left hand held onto a Nikon digital SLR camera. All of this had a negative affect on his center go gravity. As art fell ass first to the kitchen floor part of him noticed the lanky cowboy hat wearing man only feet away. The realization hit him at the same time as the floor. He splayed out on the kitchen floor looking up at a very confused looking Raylan. He spoke as he sat himself up."Raylan? You 'bout scared the shit outta me! What the hell are you doin' here?"

The cowboy sauntered closer and peered down at the awkwardly sitting man on the floor. "I was about to ask you the same question." Raylan responded.

—

Daniel had been searching every site he could find for information about the sword in front of him. It looked old. Very old. But, very well taken care of. He thought this one looked like some sort of Rapier. Maybe like one that the three musketeers would have used. Swords were far from his specialty but geeks were not. If you had a subject he knew geeks that would geek out over it. His first thought was a friend from the Model Rocket Society, Simon Paxley. Simon was finishing a grueling double Graduate degree track in Anthropology and Archeology at the University of Miami. But when asked he had laughed and said that he only knew about fantasy swords. "Listen if you want to know the name of the sword Gandolf used to kill the Great Goblin, I'm your guy. Glamdring by the way. But, there are a lot of swords that kinda look like something Porthos might have used."

Daniels heart sunk. "OK, well thanks anyway."

"But… there is this one guy. He would definitely know." Simon teased

Daniels heart lept again. "What guy?"

"There is this guest lecturer arriving today. The Anthropology department is really excited about him. He can speak flawless Chiwere, Lakota and Dakota Osage, Crow, Cherokee, Cayuga, and Onondaga! Some of those languages, like Cayuga and Onondaga are severely endangered. They might not exist in another 20 years." Simon sounded extremely excited now. "I've even heard he speaks like ten other modern languages too."

Daniel started to have doubts. "How is a linguist going to help me identify this sword?" he asked skeptically.

When Simon answered, Daniel grinned. "That's just it, he's not a linguist. He's an antiques dealer. He deals in everything from art to edged weapons."

—

Colleen sat in her office reading over the finger print analysis report from the strange sword found with the decapitated body. She glanced up at the nearly silent knock on her open door. Daniel stood in her doorway looking sheepish and mildly apprehensive. "Did you find anything out about the sword?" she inquired.

"Not yet. I'ts really hard getting good information when your search criteria is basically 'old sword' or some variation like it." He admitted.

Colleen sighed. "OK. Well, keep looking. So far its our only lead." She indicated the report in front of her. "The victims prints were all over that sword but, as far as we can tell, he has never been fingerprinted before. Even the FBI's search didn't find a match."

"In that case. I might have located a resource that can help us identify the sword. He might even be able to tell us how old it is and where it came from." He said.

"I'd settle for who it belonged too." She quipped, "Did you ask him to come in and take a look?"

"Not exactly. I kinda need to take the sword to him." Daniel inwardly winced as Colleen cocked her head in that 'oh, really' sort of way.

"And where are we taking this sword?" she asked as she stood and started collecting her things.

Daniel was now completely flustered. "Uh… we? Your going… too?"

Colleen gave him a matter of fact look as she rounded her desk heading towards his position at the door. "Yes Daniel. Where are we going?"

Colleen and Daniel began making their way towards Daniels desk to retrieve the sword when someone called for her across the bullpen. Bureau Chief Starke was on the line. "Daniel, give me a few minutes. Lets meet at my car in ten minutes." He assured her that he would get the sword packed up and ready to go in that time. As she strode back to her office she inwardly grimaced. She really should have made this call earlier. She knew her old friend had fallen pretty hard for Jim in their relatively short time working together. Jim was often aloof and abrasive to people but also very endearing and oddly very charming. Jennifer had told her that though there was an obvious attraction between them, Jim was always Callie's in his heart. During a long farewell dinner she and Jennifer had shared a couple bottles of wine and several stories about failed relationships. "You'll find the right man soon." She had told her. Jennifer smiled and replied with a non-committal nod "Yeah, well hopefully he'll be single." She had met an assistant D.A. Since returning to Tallahassee. Colleen hoped that was going well.

She took the call in her office with the door closed. "Hi Jennifer. I'm sorry I should have called you already. I.."

"Have had your hands full?" she answered for Colleen. "I understand. The reason for my call is…. Well… I want to come help."

Colleen was at a loss for what to say and left the phone call silent for too long. In a rush Jennifer began speaking. "Listen, I know in you position I would be lecturing me about being too close emotionally and…"

Colleen broke in. "Yes. Yes, I want your help. We are all too close but that means we care about getting this right. When will you be here?"

The relief was evident in her friends voice. "I'm on the way now. I'll be there in about two hours. Where do you need me?"

"One of the chief suspects is Callie's ex-husband Ray Cargill. He was in the WITSEC program run by the Marshal's." Colleen said. "They are working a few angles and say they are going to keep us up to speed with their investigation." She emphasized the word 'their'. "I was planning on running roughshod over them but there is so much to coordinate. I think someone with a title will get their attention more than sending a regular officer. Can you handle them?"

"Absolutely." Was the immediate reply. "Let me pull over so I can get the details."

Colleen gave her a quick rundown of the situation and the contact number for the Miami Marshals office as well as the mobile numbers for Tony and the Cowboy. "His name is Raylan Givins" She told her.

"Wait, THE Marshal Givins?" Jennifer replied.

Colleen sounded surprised. "I guess so, you know him?"

"Know of him. You might have been up in Jackson at the time though it was in all the papers. Really caused an uproar down south." Jennifer told her. "In full view of three witnesses and at gun point, he told Bucks to leave Miami in 24 hours or he would shoot him on sight. 24 hours later Givins finds Bucks at the Shore Club eating lunch by the pool. He walks up, sits down, and two minutes later kills Bucks with three shots to the chest. While they both were still sitting."

Colleen did remember the incident now that she heard the story. "I remember that. Wasn't he exonerated?"

"Yeah, witnesses said that Bucks pulled first. It was even caught on the security camera. It was eventually ruled a justified shooting. But, only after a lengthy legal battle. Gio Reyes hired a group of lawyers that argued Bucks was defending himself from a death threat from the Marshal. Giving was eventually transferred out of Miami for several years. I didn't know he was back."

"It sounds like he was a loose cannon. Do you want me to assign someone else?" Colleen asked.

"Are you kidding? No. Before all of that he had a reputation for being a relentless bloodhound. If he is half of what he was then, he won't stop until he finds whoever is responsible." Jennifer stated flatly.

"Good. I just hope he doesn't shoot them. I want to see them in the electric chair." Colleen replied coldly. She hung up and went to meet Daniel at her car.

—

"Retirement sucks." Art told Raylan "So I put out a few feelers and ended up working as an investigator for insurance claims."

Rylan listened as he turned the greater part of his attention to inspecting the crime scene in front of him.

"At first it was part time. But, it turns out that I hate golf and don't enjoy house repair. So, its more or less a full time thing now." Art explained.

"You work all over the country?" Raylan asked.

"Coast to Coast. I only get the high dollar cases so the per diem is pretty good. Hell, I'm staying at a hotel that overlooks the beach not some cheap shit hole." Art chuckled as he went on. "At first I stayed cheap as I could. After a while I started going to better hotels. They keep paying the bills and never seem to complain so…"

"How much?" Giving asked.

"The hotel? Oh about $200 a night." Art replied. Rylan turned and gave his old boss an odd look.

"The insurance claim. How much?" Raylan asked.

Art narrowed his eyes and took in his old friend. "Why are you here? This guy was an FDLE detective. Far as I can tell he had nothing to do with the Marshals."

Raylan gave Art a serious and stoic stare just to see that the old mule wasn't going to budge. "Alright. He was marrying a woman who's ex is in WitSec." Rylan replied.

"Callie Cargill." Art confirmed. "I thought her husbands release was a little odd. The official reason was overcrowding and his good behavior." Art pondered for a moment before the pieces fell into place. "He up and ran didn't he?"

"Yep, about two weeks ago we figure. How much?" Raylan said

Art paused and examined Raylan close. "You know, there is this creek I pass on my way to the cabin. There is this perfect bend in the creek. It could make the cover of Field and Stream once a year. You know, I chuckle to myself every time we drive by and see people fly fishing' in that thing."

Rylan sighed and leaned against the counter. "Is there a point here, Art?"

"I've known that creek for 40 years. Seen plenty of people fly fishing' in it. Never seen one of them catch anything. You know why?" Art continued.

"I imagine your about to tell me." Raylan responded half amused.

"There's this old farm about 3 miles upstream. They built a dam back in the 40's. The idea was that they could use the water for irrigating their fields. See, that dam has a design flaw. Instead of opening the gates and letting all the water flow through, it routed to 4 big 'ol pipes. Those pipes used to get clogged so they went and covered them with grates. Now the fish can't get through those grates." Art concluded with a smile.

"What the hell has that got to do with anything?" Raylan questioned.

"I like fish Raylan. I give you what's in here." Art indicated the thick blue folder in his had, "Then you'll just through up a grate and lock me out."

Raylan smiled. "What do you want Art?"

"Oh, you know. Just to tag along with ya for a bit. I won't get in the way and we can both benefit from the bounty." Art replied.

"You sure are getting' shrewd in your old age. What do ya say I just arrest you for trespassing and take a look at that folder when I book it into evidence?" Raylan replied wryly.

Art frowned. "Raylan, don't be an asshole."

—

Colleen and Daniel had spent the past hour getting to and fining the head of the Anthropology department at the University of Miami. Dr. Alister was a short rotund man with a thick beard. How anyone could wear a beard in Florida was beyond Colleen. But the man was very helpful. He told them that Mr. MacLeod's flight had just arrived and he was probably just checking into his hotel. They gave him a quick sanitized version of the story and he offered to call and setup a meeting with MacLeod for them. "Yes, Ill meet with them." McLeod had said when Alister called to inquire.

"He says that he is not too tired from his flight and would be willing to meet with you at the hotel." Alister told them.

As they made their way to the hotel bar Colleen checked in with Jennifer. "Did you make it in?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm at the Marshals office and they are trying to locate Givins for me. He has a bit of a reputation for going off the grid at times." She explained.

Colleen frowned. "I don't like that. I was assured full cooperation. Don't be afraid to push them."

"Oh, I won't. Im being nice and staying in the lobby at the moment. That's going to change soon." Jennifer said with determination.

Colleen put her cell phone away as they came into he bar. "Ok Daniel, do you know what he looks like?" She asked.

"Uh, I think that's him." Daniel replied, indicating a tall, gorgeous, and fit 40'ish man with his hand in the air across the room.

"Really? Not what I was expecting." She replied.

Daniel looked confused. "What were you expecting?"

She wasn't entirely sure. But not this. Definitely not this.

"You must be Director Manus and Mr. Green." The man said affably.

Colleen smiled coyly despite herself as Daniel rushed to acknowledge. "Yes. Mr MacLeod?"

"Duncan" he said. "I took the liberty of reserving a conference room for us. The lights in the bar are too dim for a proper inspection." He explained. They made their way to the conference room where a waiter stood at the ready. "I'm having a glass of wine, can I offer either of you something to drink?"

"Water with lemon." Colleen replied and nodded her thanks to the waiter. Daniel declined and placed a long cardboard box on the table.

Without preamble he removed a the sword still sandwiched between long steps of sterile plastic.

"May I take it out of the wrappings?" Duncan asked. Daniel looked at Colleen for permission. She nodded her assent and Daniel gently removed the plastic while speaking. "At first I thought it was old. It just had that feeling. Then I scoured the internet for something like it and thats when I got lost. There are so many variations of the Rapier from so many cultures and time spans, I don't know if its fake or real."

Duncan could feel the sword from three feet away. He knew this sword. This exact sword. At least he thought he did. The room remained quiet as he stood looking at it from a distance. Then, slowly, he approached it and took it in both hands. He immediately felt the power it held within. When a sword was used to take a head, the quickening changed it. The more it was used the more it changed. His katana should have been marred with rust pits and general degradation from its many years of intense combat. Yet it was finely honed and as elegant as it had been when he first received it several centuries before. The quickening had made it and extension of him. It's strength and resiliency were mirrors of his own. This weapon was similar. It would take many centuries for that strength to fade from it. Assuming of course that it wasn't again used to take a head. Who's sword was it?

"Have you had anyone appraise it yet?" Asked Duncan as he seemed to study the edge.

"No. We sort of lucked into finding you.' Daniel replied. "Can you tell if it is an antique or if it is a recent reproduction?"

"If it is a reproduction or real, can you tell us where a person might get a sword like this? Colleen added.

Duncan took a deep breathe. What should he reveal? Surely they would get other opinions and it wouldn't do to get caught in a lie. On the other hand, he could hardly be held accountable for calling a sword this beautifully preserved anything but a well executed fake. In the end he opted for the truth… of a sort. "If this is what I think it is…." Duncan paused and made a show or inspecting the pommel. His eyes went wide and then he ran his finger down the length of the hilt. His face took on a puzzled look.

Daniel broke the silence. "It kind of looks like a sword the Three Musketeers would have used." He turned sheepish as Colleen frowned at him and Duncan smiled and amused smile.

"Actually, you have the time period correct. Well, mostly. Though Athos would only have been a boy when this sword was forged." McLeod seemed to study the hilt more closely. "But this is not a Rapier like they would have used. Also, it isn't French. This is an English broadsword. A 23 inch basket hilted one." Duncan held the sword carefully with his left hand. His four fingers and thumb holding the middle of the blade near the hilt with the tip pointed down to the floor. With his right hand he began describing the elements of the sword. He started at the bulbous end of the hilt. "This rounded bit at the end is called the pommel. Its size and density are designed to help balance the sword in the soldiers hand." He moved to the curved guard attache to it. "The knuckle guard is attached to the pommel with a threaded screw. A very technologically advanced element at the time." He ran his finger up along the curved guard to the large shell like covering. "This helped protect a hand that was not wearing a gauntlet." He moved his finger along the slightly upturned extrusion away from the knuckle guard. "This is a curved quillion. This helped insure that a blade that fell on the opposite side of the blade from the knuckle guard wouldn't find its way to the wrist."

Duncan then rotated the sword horizontally. "The blade begins wide at the hilt. This gives it strength and allows the sword to be a very effective at stabbing the blade though an enemy. With thinner bladed swords it was not uncommon to bend or break a blade. The sword was then worthless."

"Why did you say 'the soldier'? How do you know that this was made for a soldier?" Colleen asked.

Duncan smiled. "This sword dates to somewhere around 1610 to 1630. Judging by the styling alone I would put it firmly in the 1620's. At that time the owner of a sword like this was either a nobleman with lots of money or a soldier. From the lack of filigree and the obvious alterations to the grip dressings, I would rule out a nobleman. This sword was used used not simply worn. Probably for a single generation. Then it was heirloomed and very well preserved." He points at several gouges in the blade as emphasis to his statement. "Duals were actually fairly rare and when they happened they were not long drawn out affairs. If a single person fought in enough duals to cause all of this, we would most likely know his name. Thats why this is a soldiers sword."

"Could it have been kept by the same family for that long?" Daniel asked.

Duncan looked to consider this for a moment. "It would be nearly unheard of. Then again, a sword of this age in this condition is also unheard of."

Colleen was skeptical. "Couldn't it be a fake?"

"I doubt it." Duncan said with confidence. "Do you see these markings on the blade by the hilt?" He showed her with an index finger. This mark is from an English sword masters apprentice. Thomas Waterson. He isn't famous. He achieved master status at 56 years old. He died 4 years later. I know of him because I have done extensive research for a partial sword I sold at auction 5 or 6 years ago. I found that while Waterson created the blade he lacked the artistry to craft the basket hilt. He always worked with another relatively unknown sword maker. Harold Pike. Pike made the baskets and screws and Waterson made the blade." Duncan turned the sword so that they could see the inside of the basket. There the stamped impression of a combined 'HP' was barely visible. "I think there might only be 20 people in the world that know what I just told you."

"But, one of them could have faked it." Colleen stated.

Daniel seemed to be nearly daydreaming as he wondered aloud. "Yeah, but why would you leave it in the hand of a a guy thats had his head chopped off?"

Duncan's face went hard. "What do you mean? Was this used to kill a man?"

Colleen gave Daniel an annoyed look. "We know this sword was not used in the murder." She turned to look at Duncan. "Though, something certainly did cut the victim and sever his head. Could a sword like this one be used to do those things in a very precise manner?" she asked.

"A beheading? It is a very dense and strong sword. Though, I doubt you could find a person these days skilled and strong enough to do it. This kind of sword would not be ideal for that task anyway. There were specialty swords used by experienced headsmen, but they were bulky and unadorned. Nothing like this." Duncan said.

Colleens phone rang and she politely excused herself to the far corner to answer.

"So you found this near a man with his head removed?" Duncan asked as inconspicuously as he could muster. He wouldn't have been so direct if the woman was still listening. However, he could tell that this kid would want to share the information. Someone was being clumsy. Immortals could not afford for serious investigations to be carried out on headless corpses. Especially corpses as anomalous and these would be. It was becoming far harder to assume new identities and loose oneself in the crowd of humanity. His kind did not need the extra worry of competently conducted investigation on top of it all. He hoped it was an isolated accident. The circumstances not allowing the immortal to clean up after themselves.

Daniel nodded and then lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Yes. The weird thing is that there was almost no blood. Not even from the other wounds. The cut on the neck was so precise it went mostly through the separations of the vertebrae. Were the discs are."

Duncan lowered his voice as well. "That kind of precision was achieved by only a very few headsmen throughout antiquity. That's why most preferred an axe or the Guillotine. Most of the time it would take multiple swings of the axe before the job was done."

Again Daniel nodded. "I found several websites that said exactly that." Daniel should know better than to divulge this information but this man was clearly not going to be a suspect. Who knew when some information might yeild a clue to help them find Jim's killer. He decided to take a chance and relate some of the detail. "There were some weird things that surround this murder. The wound to the neck was cauterized on both sides almost like a laser. But the vertebrae showed signs of a hard, sharp metal objet impacting them while moving both forward through them and horizontally in a near perfectly level plane." Daniel paused for a second to shudder. "Its just so weird. Not to mention that we think it was staged so someone could steal a body from our forensics lab."

Duncan's pulse quickened. This was bad, very bad. A stolen corpse or an immortal hoping to surprise a disadvantaged foe? Duncan had woken in the morgue before. It was extremely disorienting. A weaker opponent might gain an extreme advantage at a time like that. That might explain the necessity of leaving the body and the sword to be discovered. Duncan relaxed a bit. He was sure thats what it was. Then the unthinkable happened.

Colleen's voice rang through the relative silence. "What do you mean another one?" she paused and glanced across the room noticing the other two staring back at her. She moved out of the room to finish the call.

—

"You would've chewed my ass if I did this in Kentucky" Raylan mused as they walked back to their cars.

"You did do it in Kentucky. Besides, it's not like I'm a civilian or a rookie. Hell, I might even dazzle you with a few insights only a grizzled old codger like me could offer." Art retorted.

Raylan cocked his head and gazed at Art skeptically. "Alright, but nothing that might affect the investigation goes into your reports back to the insurance company." Art smiled and headed for his car. "One more thing." Raylan called. "If Dan says no, then its a no. I ain't pissin' him off any more than I have to."

"Why didn't I get that consideration?" Art mumbled.

Raylan stopped and turned to look at his friend. "What was that?"

"Nothin' worth repeating." Art said through a wan smile.

"Uh huh." Raylan replied.

They drove back to Raylans office at the Marshals building and went straight in to see Chief Deputy Marshal Dan Grant. Dan ran the Miami field office. Art explained what he was doing in Florida and that he wanted to shadow Givens. Dan happily agreed. "Are you kidding me? It's been almost three months since he's shot somebody. You tagging along might encourage him to extend the streak a little."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence but I was never able to inspire him to keep it in his holster." Art said sarcastically. "The best I can offer is an eye witness and intimate knowledge of the after action reports and procedures."

Dan laughed. "Yeah, thankfully his time in Kentucky seems to have mellowed him a bit. We've only had a handful of incidents since his return. Much to the disappointment of the local bullet manufacturers."

"You two realize I'm standing right here." Raylan said.

Both men turned their 'Yeah, and who gives a shit?' looks his way.

"Im gonna go get call Tony while you two bitch about me some more." Raylan said as he turned to walk towards his desk.

"Raylan, hold on a second." Dan said. Raylan stopped and looked back quizzically.

Dan came around his desk and indicated a room across the hall. "Conference room B." He said as he walked purposefully towards the room. Art and Raylan followed him inside. The sole occupant was a stunning brunette in a surprisingly suggestive blue dress. Yet her demeanor didn't say flirtatious. It was all business. Raylan initially though she was a lawyer until he notices the gold badge hanging from a beaded chain around her neck. When she looked up at them as they entered Raylan immediately captivated by her eyes. She stood as Dan introduced her.

"Raylan this is Bureau Chief Jennifer Starke with the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. She will be your.." He paused and looked Art briefly. "Your official liaison with the FDLE and will be accompanying you during your involvement with the case. As decreed from those well above my pay grade, your other case load has been reassigned. This is your only case and therefore your only priority." Dan turned and held up a hand to squelch the protests already forming on Raylans lips. "You can catch the others up on the status of your other cases and then catch Miss Starke up on your findings thus far in this case." He said.

Raylan stood there looking at him for several seconds. "You have got to be shitting me." He said flatly.

Dan frowned and pushed Raylan out the door. "Excuse us for just a minute." He said over his shoulder. As the door shut behind them Art looked across the table and smiled.

Jennifer smiled back and motioned for him to sit. "So, if I'm the official partner, who are you and why does your lanyard say, 'visitor'?".

Art looked down at the lanyard hanging around his neck and then smiled again. "Well, it's kinda unorthodox."

Meanwhile Dan ushered Raylan a little further down the hall outside the conference room. "You caught the part where I said people above my pay grade, right?" he said rhetorically. "Well, that means well above. That woman is very well connected and she isn't holding anything back. I wasn't asked my opinion on this. I was told in no uncertain terms that this is what was going to happen. Period. Full Stop."

"This is bullshit!" Raylan said with incredulity

"Yeah. I know. But it is what it is and you don't exactly have a lot of support up the chain to appeal it." Dan said matter of factly.

"What the hell does that mean?" Raylan replied

"It means keep your fucking gun in its holster. The FDLE called with concerns over your handling of Tommy Bucks. Then some jackass decided to provide them with your full jacket. It was all I could do to keep you on the case. That and the fact that she insisted you lead the thing from our side. With her in tow to ensure the FDLE are getting the fullest support we can offer." Dan related. "And absolutely no dumping her at the fucking ice cream stand or whatever. She and Mullen are to be with you the entire time." Dan held up a hand again. "No. I don't want to hear it. Thats it. The two of them. With. You. The. Entire. Time." He emphasize each word individually. "I mean it Raylan. The entire time."

"Why the hell do they give us guns?" Rylan asked loudly.

"Because they look scary and deter people from doing stupid shit." Dan replied.

"Well that ain't been my experience." Raylan retorted.

"Well, maybe you should give them a few minutes to consider things before you shoot them." Dan said smiling.

Raylan stood there slack jawed. Dan nodded once and turned back towards his office. As he walked he called back. "The Entire time!"

Raylan was stunned and not a little pissed off. He made his way to the coffee station and began making a cup. He shook his head. Who the hell was this Longworth guy? He was well connected within the FDLE. He had money. But, why was it so damn important to take the body. He did not relish passing his case notes along to the other Marshals. He was already 'that guy' in the office and this was not going to endear him to anyone. With a sigh of resignation he grabbed another two cups. He knew how Art liked his. Two cream and four sugars. What about the Bureau Chief? Tea maybe? He settled for black and a handful of creamers and sugar. He barely squeezed it all together in a precariously balanced three cup stack and made his way back to the conference room. When he entered Art sat next to the Bureau Chief with his blue folder opened in front of him. She was reading something and Art was point to something on the paper. They both stopped and looked up at him.

"Well I see you two are aquatinted." He said as he began setting the coffee down on the table. "You've been in here for what five minutes and already your sharing your folder with her?" Raylan asked.

Art smiled and nodded. "She's prettier and friendlier than you."

Raylan frowned at Art. "You remember those harassment seminars we had to go through?"

Art leaned back in his chair. "It ain't harassment if its true Raylan." For her part Jennifer Starke grinned.

"20 million dollars is one hell of an insurance policy. I can understand why they sent you to look into it." She said while still reading the paper.

Raylan looked hurt as he looked from Jennifer to Art. "You told her before me?"

"Friendlier and better looking." Art said in reply.


	3. Chapter 3 - Convergence

Colleen came back into the conference room a few minutes later looking harried. "Daniel, we have to go." She said motioning for him to gather his things.

"If you allow me to keep the sword for a few days, I might be able to track down who owned it." Said Duncan helpfully.

Colleen considered this for a few moments. "No. I don't want to break the chain of custody. This is still a piece of evidence in at least one crime." As Daniel began the process of packing the sword Colleen looked thoughtful. "Mr. MacLeod, would you be willing to work with the FDLE to identify and help us trace the swords back to their owners or whomever last sold them?"

Daniel immediately caught the now pluralized phrasing and looked up. MacLeod's eye widened in surprise. "You have another antique sword involved in a crime?" he asked incredulously.

Colleen nodded. Then looked to Daniel and made a decision. "Daniel, why don't you stay with Mr. MacLeod and let him take some pictures. Finding the owner of this sword is now a priority. Give me a call when your done and I'll send someone for you." Colleen left quickly leaving Duncan and Daniel standing in silence.

"Do you really think you can help track down whoever owned this sword?" Daniel asked.

Duncan had heard that tone so many times in his long life. This was far more than just another case for both of these people. "Daniel, can you tell me what happened? The more detail I have the more help I can be."

Daniel hesitated for only a few moments. Then, he decided to trust Duncan MacLeod. "OK. For some reason I think I can trust you. It all started two days ago…" When he finished Duncan had reached his hand out and gently squeezed his shoulder. "We don't know if it's all related but there is just too much coincidence. That's weird right?"

"Yes Daniel, it is." Duncan had said validating the certainty that Daniel felt. "I'm going to go call a couple of friends of mine to see what I can dig up. Why don't you eat something while I am making some calls. " He had then called for the waiter and ordered Daniel some lunch before disappearing presumably back to his room. Daniel was hungry and oddly enough relieved to have shared some of this with someone that was disconnected from it. He ate, waited, and began running internet searches for early 17th century English Broadsword auctions on his smartphone.

—

"Hello Joe." Came the all too familiar voice the moment Joe Dawson had finally fumbled his way through answering that damned phone thing of his. "Where are you staying?" it continued.

"Come on Mac, I'm supposed to be in the shadows, remember?" He replied.

"We need to talk. Someone is being very clumsy here and now the local police have asked me to help track down the owners of two antique swords." Duncan said flatly.

"Yeah, well tell them your sorry but you can't help them. You being from out of town and all." Joe suggested.

"It's a little more complicated than that. What's your room number?" Duncan asked.

"Damnit Mac." There was a pregnant pause and then a resigned sigh. "432". The knock at the door came only seconds later. He opened the door to a smiling MacLeod.

"You already knew where I was didn't you?" Joe asked.

"You could have refused." Said MacLeod

"Oh yeah? And you'd have let me be?" Joe asked. He was treated with a knowing smile in return. "Ok, so whats so important that you gotta bother me before I even unpack."

"There was a Detective Longworth killed 2 days ago. The body went missing from the morgue." Macleod said as he made his way inside Joe's hotel room. Joe closed the door behind him and slowly made his way to a chair by the window. Looking across the parking lot Duncan could see his hotel and his rooms window. He had to smile. Joe was no slouch.

"Bodies don't just go missing from morgues. You think it was one of you?" Joe asked.

"They did a search around the building and found a headless corpse still clutching an antique sword." Duncan continued. "At first I thought it might be that a hunter was waiting for a stronger opponent to be disoriented after waking. It happens." Duncan said. He sat on the edge of he bed an looked straight into Joes eyes. "I think it might be a new immortal."

Joes face betrayed his doubts. "Come on Mac, no new immortal is gonna take a head in his first few minutes."

"From what Daniel told me, this Detective Longworth was set to be married on the same day he died. They found him because he was late and they sent someone for him. The thing is, his mother and father were at the wedding. His father found him." Duncan looked down at the floor. "I'm not sure whats going on Joe, but whoever this is just left another headless corpse with a sword for the police to find."

"Your kidding. Another one?" Joe said still more incredulously.

"Joe, This one might be bigger than the rules we are trying to play by." Duncan said slowly.

The realization hit Joe and he was not happy about it. "Mac, I can't get involved. There are those that want me out just for the stuff between us that they think they know about. Im on a short leash here."

Duncan nodded slowly. "Joe you know I wouldn't be here asking if it wasn't important. Whoever this is They are being careless and possibly teaching a new immortal to be just as careless."

Joe closed his eyes an shook his head. "Why can't I just say no and mean it?"

"Because you have a strong moral compass Joe. That and I'm extremely charming. " Duncan said smiling. "I'll text you some close up pictures of the first sword they found."

Joe looked agitated. "Oh hell Mac I can't work this stupid thing!" He said as he fumbled it out of his pocket. "I need my glasses just to make a phone call. Then there's all these modes and buttons." Joe said as he held the phone in one hand and fumbling for his reading glasses with the other.

"Sometimes, I'm not sure which of us is the old man." Duncan chuckled. He reached over and plucked the phone from his had and opened the messaging app. Moments later he was swiping through a series of six photos of the sword. He handed the phone back to Joe.

"An English Broadsword. What is this 1650's?" joe asked.

"Maybe. More like 1610 to 1630. It reminds me a little of my first sword but not nearly as good." Duncan remembered fondly.

"Not as good huh? Imperfections in the steel?" Joe asked seriously.

Duncan smiled. "Possibly. But mostly because its English." The each laughed at the joke. The moment of levity only serving to make the moment after feel awkward. "Joe, don't overreach on this. If you can find out who the owner of this sword is that would be a great start."

Joe smiled back. "I still have a few favors owed me. Give me a few hours and I'll call your room."

Duncan thanked him again and went back to see Daniel. The man had finished his meal and was tapping away intently on his phone.

"No need to call a cab." Duncan told him. "I can drop you."

"Oh Ok, I was just going to Uber, it takes too long for a good taxi." Daniel said absently. "There was a sword listed as "English Basket Hilted Broadsword circa 1640 that sold for auction in 1992. Though I didn't see an image so I can't confirm if this is it or not."

"It isn't. That sword now belongs to the British Museum after being acquired by a benefactor in 2004." Duncan said assuredly.

"How do you know its not the same sword?" Daniel probed. "How many pristine swords from the 1600's are there?

"Only a few. The sword you're talking about was found was in fantastic shape for being neglected for 340 years. It was hidden in the crypt of a ruined village church in Lincolnshire. The sword was under a stone with only the date still readable, August 8, 1642. " Duncan paused and then added, "The village council announced an auction and sold it to an Argentinian man three days after it was found. It was only reported after it had already left the country."

"Wow! How did it get to the Museum?" Daniel asked interestedly.

Duncan smiled. "Well, I happened to be in Argentina on other business and made an offer the owner couldn't refuse. I then placed a call to the museums curator and donated the sword to them in the name of William Rosenthal."

Daniel looked confused. "Who is William Rosenthal?"

Duncan seemed to look into himself. "He was a father, a husband, and a farmer. A voice of reason in a land where fear and ancient hatreds consumed an otherwise thoughtful people. A very decent man in a very indecent age." He said sadly.

It was crazy but Daniel got the real feeling that Duncan knew this man personally. He felt as though he were intruding on very personal feelings. He wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. "Uh, he sounds like an interesting man." Daniel fumbled. "Umm, how did you find out about him?" he asked.

Duncan seemed to snap out of his reverie. "In my business, you have to be good at research." He said simply. "Are you ready to go?"

Duncan drove Daniel back to the FDLE station building. He knew from Daniels story that they had found the body someplace behind the building. Daniel thanked Duncan and disappeared into the building. Duncan sat in his rental car in the back of the parking lot of a 20 minutes watching the normal traffic and noting the security cameras. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove until he was mostly sure he was out of sight of the cameras. He found a retail center parking lot and left his car there. Checking his phone's satellite map view he plotted a walking route through to the rear of the FDLE building. He needed something to disguise himself in case he was caught on camera. He didn't want to have to explain why he was interested in seeing the crime scene. He quickly ducked in a shop and purchased a Dolphins jersey, ball cap and thick dark sunglasses. The bulk of the jersey would help him hie his build and the hat glasses were enough to cast serious doubt on his general appearance. It wasn't perfect he didn't think it needed to be. He waited to adopt his disguise until he was certain there were no cameras. He quickly changed shirts and stuffed his long hair in to the hat.

Several minutes later he found himself standing just inside a small tree line in back of the building. The trees were part of a small greenbelt that separated the more affluent office buildings and FDLE station from a relatively older more run down retail and residential sector. Duncan would have been shocked if the local criminal element did not spend a good deal of time watching their nemesis from this vantage point. It didn't tae long for Duncan to spot what he was expecting to see. About twenty yards to his left he spotted the burn marks. Being sure to stay within the tree line and never to present his full face or unobstructed profile to the building he made his way to the spot where the quickening had occurred. He felt nothing. It had been too long and any residual feeling had dissipated. But there was no mistaking the burn patterns. The untouched grass in the center that looked eerily like a headless body outline. He turned and probed deeper into he trees. The foliage was too dense not to show damage from a fight. He walked around for a bit before he determined there was not a fight within the trees. He turned and gazed at the ground on both the left and right of the burned area. Nothing looked particularly trampled. Duncan closed his eyes and tried to picture the fight. A single impaling wound followed by two severe gashes to the torso. The looser would have fallen to his knees and was then given a few moments to make his peace before the head was taken. It was during this time that the wounds would begin to rapidly heal. When engaged in a fight, an Immortals blood would clot almost immediately from even the most horrific of wounds. The older you were and the more quickening you endured the faster your healing. Though, if the body sustained too much damage, it would lay dormant for a time. As if mimicking an actual death. Then, with suddenness, the wounds would heal and the immortal would regain life. Or at least that was Duncan's experience.

It was obvious now. This wasn't a fair fight. It was a betrayal for the sake of a distraction. He stepped back further in to the trees before allowing his eyes to search for the cameras mounted on the building and surrounding areas. Four in total but only two in full view of the fight and it's spectacular finale'. But the FDLE clearly didn't have the recordings or they would have seen it followed by their dead detective walking out of the morgue. No, this was part of the plan. This person already known that they could either remove or destroy the recordings. Sixteen camera's visible from the front and only four in the rear. It wasn't someone being clumsy and it wasn't a failed attempt from a weaker immortal trying to get an advantage on a stronger one. No. This was calculated. His curiosity satisfied he headed back to his car taking care to remove the disguise while out of anyone view. He was sure to carry the bag with him all the way to the car. He would dump it later. It always paid to remember that this new world had eyes everywhere. A part of him wondered how long it would be until someone caught it all on video and posted it to every social site on the internet. How many more years or decades could they hide among normal people? He shook his head to clear the thoughts. Time to see if Joe had come up with anything.

—

They had been comparing notes and generally going about building the case scaffolding. Now they would have to begin working the case. Despite the tense start Raylan was quick to note the "Bureau Chief" Starke was more than a mere pencil pusher. She knew what she was doing. Wasn't all that hard on the eyes either. So far he was impressed.

As impressed as he was, he was more impressed by Art. Take the man out of the boss role and somehow that stick he always had up his ass was gone. This was the same man he taught shooting and tactics with, not the uptight bureaucrat he remembered from Kentucky. Well, if he was honest, a lot of that he brought on himself. He stood up from the table, removed his hat, and stretched his hands over his head.

"So, whats with the hat?" Jennifer asked.

Art chuckled as his phone rang. He pulled it out and consulted the screen. An odd look came over his face. Flashes of fear, anger, and resignation before it settled on worried. "Gimme just a minute, I probably need to take this." he said then quickly left the room. Raylan watched him walk out of the room. Something was odd about that call he thought. So, he watched Art for a long moment through the glass and then leaned forward with his hands braced on the table and looked down at a report. It was his business and none of Raylans.

"Are you a cowboy or something?" Jennifer asked again.

Raylan glanced up and found her leaned back in her chair staring at him. Damn those eyes were… "Whats that?" he managed to say. Surprising himself with how in control he sounded.

"Your hat. Is it a cowboy thing?" She asked.

Raylan hated that damn question. He look back down at the report partly in dismissal of the question and partly because he wasn't sure he could look away if he kept eye contact for another second. All he needed was a damn sexual harassment complaint to fill out his less than stellar employee file. Dan would probably kick his ass outta Florida again if that happened. "It keeps the sun off my neck and outta my eyes." He repeated for at least the billionth time in his career.

For her part Jennifer smiled slightly and went back to rereading Art's file.

—

Art answered the phone just as he exited the conference room. "Is Miss Perkins alright?" he asked tightly into the phone. His chest felt tight and his left had reflexively coiled into a tight fist.

"Yes, she is fine. I just spoke to Justin and everything is normal. Sorry I scared you." Joe said.

Relief spread throughout Art's body. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back and took a long deep breath and then blew it out slowly. When he opened them and looked around he could see Raylan watching him. He turned and strode down the hall as he spoke. "I think your about the only one who can appreciate my particular affinity." He said somewhat jokingly.

—

The Josephine Perkins discovery was a fascinating read for any watcher. In 1848 Sundra Kastigir found himself, once again, chained, manacled, and stuffed into a slavers cart. His watcher, Clive Stratton was a fifty year old Englishman who employed himself as a gambler. Clive had been watching Kastigir for twenty seven years. This was not the first time he had seen the resilient African a victim of "The most vile, heinous and barbaric of practices the world shall ever know." and would not be the last. The slavers were not planning on holding an auction that day. They were simply stocking up on water and supplies in a town somewhere south of Lexington, Kentucky. Clive had become adept at noticing when "his Sundra" felt the presence of another of his kind. Clive immediately scanned the area and committed the numbers to memory and later to his chronicle. "There were two young women trying desperately to control three unruly lads. Four men of their mid years, and one elderly woman with a cane."

It took Kastigir only a seconds uncertainty. Then he smiled broadly, threw back his head and laughed "as if his eyes beheld Don Quixote astride Rocinante". The elderly woman called to the slavers and announced her intent to purchase. They laughed at her unapologetically. She huffed and scuttled off. A half hour later there were more laughs when she returned and renewed he proclamation. Silence broke when she produced $400 from a coat pocket. Kastigir laughed on as the men showed her a variety younger specimens. The old woman pointed with a long boney finger and with a half smile said, "I want the laughing one."

Kastigir stayed with the woman through the winter and long enough to make several repairs to her homestead. He helped her setup a large vegetable garden built numerous chicken coups. Then , on the first day of summer, they traveled to Lexington where Josephine had papers declaring Kastigir a freed slave drawn up. They hugged and went their separate ways.

Unknown at the time, this immortal had never been cataloged. It wasn't until 1859 that she was assigned a watcher of her own. Thus began the most boring assignment any watcher could have the grave misfortune of receiving. Most days she woke and spent the day tending the garden or other chores. Every Saturday she would visit the market and buy supplies. Once every odd year she would travel to Louisville, pick a bank, spend a few hours inside, and then return immediately to her homestead. On the even years she would travel to Nashville, Knoxville, or Charleston and do the same thing only there she would stay one or two nights in a hotel. That's it. The same routine year after year. No variation. From time to time an immortal would stop by and spend a few days or a few weeks. She never fought, she never practiced, and no-one had ever seen her with a sword. She was just a sweet old lady. They all knew it was just a matter of time. One day, she would be visited by one that was not so friendly.

Art Mullen was born and raised Harlan. Though the family income was tight they tended to live a bit better off than most. On a grand scale, they were poor. Just not as dirt poor as most. His father was a good man and didn't drink heavily. His mother was kind and hard working. They lived in a small housing development and as such the neighbors were close and most of the time there were people around. People who resented his families better position in life. This is why he loved visiting his grandparents farm. He would spend a good deal of the summers there and though less frequent plenty of time in the fall and spring too.

He was 12 when he first met Miss Perkins. His grandparents owned farmland that shared her northern boundary. A creek ran through both parcels of land that eventually fed into the Kentucky river. The young Art would play, fish, and sometimes hunt along its banks never really paying any mind to who's land he happened to be on at the time. One humid August day Art was looking for a particularly good fishing spot when an old voice called to him from the opposite bank. "Boy, you bring me two brim up to the house for my supper." When he looked up he saw the terrifying old woman staring at him.

It was all he could do to holler back "Yes ma'am". She nodded curtly, turned, and made her way, every so slowly, back up the slight hill and then disappeared through the trees.

At first Art thought he might just turn and make his way back up the creek. But for some reason he never could quite put his finger on, he cast his line right there on that spot with every intent to fulfill his promise. It did't take long. Within an hour, Art had four brim and two small mouth bass. He had somehow stumbled on a honeypot. He spent another hour or so pulling fish of various species out of that magical spot. Then, he selected the ones he wanted to keep and tossed the others back in with a promise to collect them when they had a bit more time to fatten up. He found an old tree that crossed the creek fifty or so yards down the stream and dutifully trekked his catch across the overgrown field towards the Victorian style house in the distance. He found the old woman on the porch in a rocking chair reading a book.

"You bringin' me my supper?" she called without looking up.

"Yes ma"am" Art replied.

"Well, bring 'em on into the kitchen." She said as she pushed herself up and slowly walked through the front door. Art followed on her heels with a pail of fish in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. Once inside he couldn't believe his eyes. Nearly every wall of the first room was covered in bookshelves. Thousands of books of every size and thickness adorned them all. As the old woman lead him down a hall Art could see at least two other rooms similarly filled with shelves and books. A large desk and table with stacks of books and what looked like maps occupied one. Upon reaching the kitchen Art was again struck in awe. One entire wall was filled with cookbooks. Opposite them was a large and ancient looking cast iron stove. His eye settled on the ornate looking front of it. Embossed across the oven door that took up much of the middle was the word "Easter", a large "E" centered in a door on the upper left and the date "1885" on a small door on the bottom left. A small stack of firewood was stacked on another ornate looking cast iron rack just to the left of the stove.

She produced a skillet from one of the cabinets connected to the thick butcher block like counter surrounding a large porcelain sink. There were more cabinets and storage bins there than he had ever seen in that kitchen. The window over the sink looked out onto a huge and very well tended vegetable garden. "Well, lets see them brim." The woman said with a smile and patted a spot not he counter. Art sat the pale on the floor and pulled two big bluegill from the pale and placed them on the counter."

"Well now," she said eyeing the rest of his catch in the pale. "You sure found my honey hole, didn't ya?"

Art grinned broadly, "Yes Ma'am"

"Is that all you know how to say boy? Whats your name?" she laughed.

"Arthur ma'm but my folks call me Art" he said shyly as his cheeks flushed. Eager to pull the attention away from the deepening red of his face he pointed to the stove. "Is that a wood stove" he muttered.

The old woman looked back at him with a wry grin, "Nope, runs on fairy dust." She eyed him for a minute. "I guess I'll allow it." She said finally.

"Ma'am?" art asked questioningly.

"I guess I'll allow you to fish my honey hole. But, you gotta bring me some of the catch every now and then and sit a spell and talk to me. I like to hear about the world. How its changin'. Things like that." She told him. He soon agreed and over a cup of tea they talked about Harlan, Lexington, and the time his parents took him to the movies. Soon it was getting late and with a smile and promise to return Art headed for his grandmothers house.

So it went until Art entered the Marine Corps. The Vietnam war had ended and the the local job market was filled with hard eyed veterans eager to wash their hands of the military. Art figured that joining up was the best way to get a paying job and a way into college. His first accolade was a nearly impossible perfect accuracy record earning him the "Expert" firearms badge in short order. Tapped for sniper training Art instantly found success. Though, he admitted to himself, he wasn't entirely sure he could just drop a man he didn't know anything about. During his third year his Grandfather died followed by his grandmother a year later. His parents sold the farm and convinced him to leave the military life and go to college. The money from the farm sale was more than enough to cover his tuition. Art weighed his options and decided to pursue studies instead of a military career.

It was after he had graduated college and before his first job that he drove his mothers old '66 ford up the road that led to Miss Perkins old house. He knew she wouldn't be there but thought he might just ask the new residents if he could walk down to that old honey hole just for old times sake. As soon as he got out of the car he spotted her. His jaw fell open and he approached like in a dream. She sat on the same old rocking chair reading yet another book. As he approached, she called "You bring any fish for my supper?".

He knew then she was different. She hadn't aged a day. That wasn't an exaggeration. She really hadn't aged a single day since the last time he saw her. Then he stood only feet away from her, still slack jawed, she smiled and said "I'm betting' you got some questions for me." They made their way to the kitchen and sat at the table drinking tea in silence.

"How old are you?" Art asked cautiously.

She smiled at him and without a hint of humor said, "850 or 860 as far as I can tell. It was a long time before I knew how to count you see." She smiled and watched his eyes. Her words by themselves suggested a joke. Her eyes conveyed truth. Her voice told him it was real.

His confusion was evident in his stuttering voice once he fond it. "How… how is it possible?".

"Son, that is a complicated story and not one I think I need to tell you right now. Let all of this simmer for a bit." She said sagely.

They ate, talked, and finally Art said his goodbyes as Miss Perkins announced that she needed her "beauty sleep". Art promised to visit again soon and drove into town. He found the local bar and sat in stunned silence contemplating the days events while seemingly fascinated by the untouched whisky sitting in front of him. He sat there like that for a long time. "Mind if I join you?" came a good natured voice from behind him. "Uh, I'm kinda working though some things right now." Art replied. The man awkwardly mounted the bar stool next to him anyway and waived to the barman for a double whisky.

"Yeah, I've been there. Not sure what to think. You can't believe it. Its not possible. Yet its looking you right in the face." The man said.

Art was silent for a long minute. "Uh, I'm not sure what you mean." He stammered.

The man smiled and extended his had, "Hi, I'm Joe. Joe Dawson"

—

"Yeah, I understand alright." Joe replied. "Nothing to worry about there my friend. She hasn't altered her routine in what, forty years?" Joe asked.

Art chuckled. "Something like that. Give or take a couple hundred. Let me guess, your not calling to tell me Justin's cracked the book mystery are ya?"

There was a deep breathe on the other end. "No." Joe said and then paused. "I 'm calling to ask for a favor"

"Is this favor for you or for your Scottish buddy?" Art asked knowingly.

There was a long pause on the line. "Sorry to bother you." Joe said stiffly.

"Now hold on just a minute, I didn't say no." Art said quickly before Joe had a chance to end the call. "I just wanted to be clear about it is all. He was more than helpful during our little family squabble and lord knows I'm the last guy that needs to be preachin' about gettin' personally involved." Art added.

"I hate asking but this situation is pretty high profile." Joe admitted.

"Yeah, I'm kinda in the middle of one of those here myself. What do ya need?" Art said.

"I 'm trying to avoid calling down to Florida. Jack doesn't like me too much." Joe chuckled, "Hell I don't blame him really. Still, I'd rather not fuel any rumors about me helping MacLeod again." Joe finished.

Art was taken aback. "MacLeod's in Florida?" Art asked. He had ventured as far down the hall as he could so he turned and started slowly meandering his way back the way he came.

"We both are. Listen can you use your network to get some info for me?" Joe asked. "Don't worry, I'm not going to put you in the middle of Jacks business." He concluded.

That's when Art felt it. That sensation where you knew things were connected but you couldn't yet see how. "What kinda information?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm hoping for a list of the immortals in South Florida that used a basket hilt English broadsword from the early 1600's."Joe said.

Art caught the tip off. "Used?" he asked.

"Yeah. MacLeod was asked to consult with the cops in Miami about a couple of antique swords used in some local beheadings. This isn't the usual drug lord stuff. No spectacles were made and Mac's absolutely sure one of the swords was used to take a head recently." Joe divulged.

Art stopped on a dime. "What? They know that?" Art asked incredulously.

Joe sounded al little excited with his explanation. "Yeah. It's a sensation they get. Not as strong as the when another immortal is near but unmistakable. Almost like when they meet a pre-immortal."

For the second time in mere moments Art was flabbergasted. "They can feel when someone is about to be an immortal?" Art asked.

"Sometimes. Listen this is all going in Mac's journal but I don't want anyone to know just yet. I get enough shit over my relationship with him, you know?" Joe pleaded.

Art considered this for a second. "Alright. But you and I need to talk about all this. I wanna know more detail."

Joe laughed. "Yeah, sure but it goes both ways."

Art smiled knowingly. "You wanna know about the books."

"Damn right! I watched her for three years. Never could figure it out." Joe responded.

Art agreed and then something struck him. He stopped walking and stood again outside the conference room looking out over the small sea of cubicles and the Marshals at their various tasks. "I thought you said it was a high profile situation. How come I haven't heard about it.?"

Joes sounded odd when he replied. "Well, I don't think the news has gone national yet, thank God, but it's all over the TV here. A Detective was killed and then his body was stolen. They found the body of whomever it was that carried that broadsword very near the building. It looks like the quickening was used both to knock out the electricity and provide a nice distraction for somebody getting out of the morgue." Joe said. "MacLeod thinks it was a hunter looking for an apprentice with more useful skills. Anyway, this hunter has left two headless corpses complete with swords in as many days. Mac's worried that its going to start a snowball investigation. They all fear that." Joe said.

Art turned nearly ghost white. He was silent as he tried to find a way that this wasn't right on his doorstep. "Joe, I'll get you the info on the sword and I'll call you back on the other. I gotta go." He said mechanically and disconnected the line. He turned and looked through the glass at Raylan and Jennifer for a few moments until Raylan sensed his stare and locked eyes with him.

Joe looked at his phone confused. He was glad he was going to get the list but what else had he asked for? Surely Art wasn't going to tell him about the books over the phone, right? No, that wasn't it. He sounded, well, like a cop again. Oh well, he'd either find out or he wouldn't. He still had a few other resources to check. It wouldn't do to have all your eggs in one basket.

—

Art kept the stare down with Raylan going as he entered the conference room. Once the door had closed behind him he looked at each of them in turn. Then, as if he were still the head honcho, he shoved his hands in his pockets, narrowed his eyes and asked, "Now, I don't remember anybody telling me about missing bodies, headless mystery corpses and antique swords. Did I have a senior moment there or are my two partners keepin' me fishin' with a dry hook?"

Raylan sat back in his chair and took on a slightly defensive posture, well at least what that looked like on Raylan, Art thought. Jennifer just looked confused. She turned to look at Raylan and saw him still staring at Art.

"You didn't tell him the body was missing?" she asked.

"Well, aren't you informed." Raylan stated.

"Seriously?" Jennifer asked a little annoyed.

Raylan looked over at her. "We were still workin' on background here. Hadn't got to the details yet." He looked back at Art with a bewildered/bemused look on his face. "Besides, we ain't workin' that side of it right now. This old buzzard I used to know always told me to keep to MY assignments and stop pokin' my ass into places it didn't belong. Besides, we don't even know if it's related. Wouldn't exactly be the first head some cartel or other had a head removed."

"With a half a million dollar sword?" Art asked sarcastically.

Both Jennifer and Raylan replied on top of each other, "What?"

"Where the hell did ya get that number?" Raylan asked as Jennifer blurted "How could possibly know that?"

Art help up both hands. "Thats just a guess. The FDLE sent it out to be assessed. You should get the real number back soon. Whatever it is, it ain't cheap and it ain't fake."

Jennifer picked up her phone and started dialing Colleen.


	4. Chapter 4 - Assignments and Interviews

Colleen came back into the conference room a few minutes later looking harried. "Daniel, we have to go." She said motioning for him to gather his things.

"If you allow me to keep the sword for a few days, I might be able to track down who owned it." Said Duncan helpfully.

Colleen considered this for a few moments. "No. I don't want to break the chain of custody. This is still a piece of evidence in at least one crime." As Daniel began the process of packing the sword Colleen looked thoughtful. "Mr. MacLeod, would you be willing to work with the FDLE to identify and help us trace the swords back to their owners or whomever last sold them?"

Daniel immediately caught the now pluralized phrasing and looked up. MacLeod's eye widened in surprise. "You have another antique sword involved in a crime?" he asked incredulously.

Colleen nodded. Then looked to Daniel and made a decision. "Daniel, why don't you stay with Mr. MacLeod and let him take some pictures. Finding the owner of this sword is now a priority. Give me a call when your done and I'll send someone for you." Colleen left quickly leaving Duncan and Daniel standing in silence.

"Do you really think you can help track down whoever owned this sword?" Daniel asked.

Duncan had heard that tone so many times in his long life. This was far more than just another case for both of these people. "Daniel, can you tell me what happened? The more detail I have the more help I can be."

Daniel hesitated for only a few moments. Then, he decided to trust Duncan MacLeod. "OK. For some reason I think I can trust you. It all started two days ago…" When he finished Duncan had reached his hand out and gently squeezed his shoulder. "We don't know if it's all related but there is just too much coincidence. That's weird right?"

"Yes Daniel, it is." Duncan had said validating the certainty that Daniel felt. "I'm going to go call a couple of friends of mine to see what I can dig up. Why don't you eat something while I am making some calls. " He had then called for the waiter and ordered Daniel some lunch before disappearing presumably back to his room. Daniel was hungry and oddly enough relieved to have shared some of this with someone that was disconnected from it. He ate, waited, and began running internet searches for early 17th century English Broadsword auctions on his smartphone.

—

"Hello Joe." Came the all too familiar voice the moment Joe Dawson had finally fumbled his way through answering that damned phone thing of his. "Where are you staying?" it continued.

"Come on Mac, I'm supposed to be in the shadows, remember?" He replied.

"We need to talk. Someone is being very clumsy here and now the local police have asked me to help track down the owners of two antique swords." Duncan said flatly.

"Yeah, well tell them your sorry but you can't help them. You being from out of town and all." Joe suggested.

"It's a little more complicated than that. What's your room number?" Duncan asked.

"Damnit Mac." There was a pregnant pause and then a resigned sigh. "432". The knock at the door came only seconds later. He opened the door to a smiling MacLeod.

"You already knew where I was didn't you?" Joe asked.

"You could have refused." Said MacLeod

"Oh yeah? And you'd have let me be?" Joe asked. He was treated with a knowing smile in return. "Ok, so whats so important that you gotta bother me before I even unpack."

"There was a Detective Longworth killed 2 days ago. The body went missing from the morgue." Macleod said as he made his way inside Joe's hotel room. Joe closed the door behind him and slowly made his way to a chair by the window. Looking across the parking lot Duncan could see his hotel and his rooms window. He had to smile. Joe was no slouch.

"Bodies don't just go missing from morgues. You think it was one of you?" Joe asked.

"They did a search around the building and found a headless corpse still clutching an antique sword." Duncan continued. "At first I thought it might be that a hunter was waiting for a stronger opponent to be disoriented after waking. It happens." Duncan said. He sat on the edge of he bed an looked straight into Joes eyes. "I think it might be a new immortal."

Joes face betrayed his doubts. "Come on Mac, no new immortal is gonna take a head in his first few minutes."

"From what Daniel told me, this Detective Longworth was set to be married on the same day he died. They found him because he was late and they sent someone for him. The thing is, his mother and father were at the wedding. His father found him." Duncan looked down at the floor. "I'm not sure whats going on Joe, but whoever this is just left another headless corpse with a sword for the police to find."

"Your kidding. Another one?" Joe said still more incredulously.

"Joe, This one might be bigger than the rules we are trying to play by." Duncan said slowly.

The realization hit Joe and he was not happy about it. "Mac, I can't get involved. There are those that want me out just for the stuff between us that they think they know about. Im on a short leash here."

Duncan nodded slowly. "Joe you know I wouldn't be here asking if it wasn't important. Whoever this is They are being careless and possibly teaching a new immortal to be just as careless."

Joe closed his eyes an shook his head. "Why can't I just say no and mean it?"

"Because you have a strong moral compass Joe. That and I'm extremely charming. " Duncan said smiling. "I'll text you some close up pictures of the first sword they found."

Joe looked agitated. "Oh hell Mac I can't work this stupid thing!" He said as he fumbled it out of his pocket. "I need my glasses just to make a phone call. Then there's all these modes and buttons." Joe said as he held the phone in one hand and fumbling for his reading glasses with the other.

"Sometimes, I'm not sure which of us is the old man." Duncan chuckled. He reached over and plucked the phone from his had and opened the messaging app. Moments later he was swiping through a series of six photos of the sword. He handed the phone back to Joe.

"An English Broadsword. What is this 1650's?" joe asked.

"Maybe. More like 1610 to 1630. It reminds me a little of my first sword but not nearly as good." Duncan remembered fondly.

"Not as good huh? Imperfections in the steel?" Joe asked seriously.

Duncan smiled. "Possibly. But mostly because its English." The each laughed at the joke. The moment of levity only serving to make the moment after feel awkward. "Joe, don't overreach on this. If you can find out who the owner of this sword is that would be a great start."

Joe smiled back. "I still have a few favors owed me. Give me a few hours and I'll call your room."

Duncan thanked him again and went back to see Daniel. The man had finished his meal and was tapping away intently on his phone.

"No need to call a cab." Duncan told him. "I can drop you."

"Oh Ok, I was just going to Uber, it takes too long for a good taxi." Daniel said absently. "There was a sword listed as "English Basket Hilted Broadsword circa 1640 that sold for auction in 1992. Though I didn't see an image so I can't confirm if this is it or not."

"It isn't. That sword now belongs to the British Museum after being acquired by a benefactor in 2004." Duncan said assuredly.

"How do you know its not the same sword?" Daniel probed. "How many pristine swords from the 1600's are there?

"Only a few. The sword you're talking about was found was in fantastic shape for being neglected for 340 years. It was hidden in the crypt of a ruined village church in Lincolnshire. The sword was under a stone with only the date still readable, August 8, 1642. " Duncan paused and then added, "The village council announced an auction and sold it to an Argentinian man three days after it was found. It was only reported after it had already left the country."

"Wow! How did it get to the Museum?" Daniel asked interestedly.

Duncan smiled. "Well, I happened to be in Argentina on other business and made an offer the owner couldn't refuse. I then placed a call to the museums curator and donated the sword to them in the name of William Rosenthal."

Daniel looked confused. "Who is William Rosenthal?"

Duncan seemed to look into himself. "He was a father, a husband, and a farmer. A voice of reason in a land where fear and ancient hatreds consumed an otherwise thoughtful people. A very decent man in a very indecent age." He said sadly.

It was crazy but Daniel got the real feeling that Duncan knew this man personally. He felt as though he were intruding on very personal feelings. He wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. "Uh, he sounds like an interesting man." Daniel fumbled. "Umm, how did you find out about him?" he asked.

Duncan seemed to snap out of his reverie. "In my business, you have to be good at research." He said simply. "Are you ready to go?"

Duncan drove Daniel back to the FDLE station building. He knew from Daniels story that they had found the body someplace behind the building. Daniel thanked Duncan and disappeared into the building. Duncan sat in his rental car in the back of the parking lot of a 20 minutes watching the normal traffic and noting the security cameras. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove until he was mostly sure he was out of sight of the cameras. He found a retail center parking lot and left his car there. Checking his phone's satellite map view he plotted a walking route through to the rear of the FDLE building. He needed something to disguise himself in case he was caught on camera. He didn't want to have to explain why he was interested in seeing the crime scene. He quickly ducked in a shop and purchased a Dolphins jersey, ball cap and thick dark sunglasses. The bulk of the jersey would help him hie his build and the hat glasses were enough to cast serious doubt on his general appearance. It wasn't perfect he didn't think it needed to be. He waited to adopt his disguise until he was certain there were no cameras. He quickly changed shirts and stuffed his long hair in to the hat.

Several minutes later he found himself standing just inside a small tree line in back of the building. The trees were part of a small greenbelt that separated the more affluent office buildings and FDLE station from a relatively older more run down retail and residential sector. Duncan would have been shocked if the local criminal element did not spend a good deal of time watching their nemesis from this vantage point. It didn't tae long for Duncan to spot what he was expecting to see. About twenty yards to his left he spotted the burn marks. Being sure to stay within the tree line and never to present his full face or unobstructed profile to the building he made his way to the spot where the quickening had occurred. He felt nothing. It had been too long and any residual feeling had dissipated. But there was no mistaking the burn patterns. The untouched grass in the center that looked eerily like a headless body outline. He turned and probed deeper into he trees. The foliage was too dense not to show damage from a fight. He walked around for a bit before he determined there was not a fight within the trees. He turned and gazed at the ground on both the left and right of the burned area. Nothing looked particularly trampled. Duncan closed his eyes and tried to picture the fight. A single impaling wound followed by two severe gashes to the torso. The looser would have fallen to his knees and was then given a few moments to make his peace before the head was taken. It was during this time that the wounds would begin to rapidly heal. When engaged in a fight, an Immortals blood would clot almost immediately from even the most horrific of wounds. The older you were and the more quickening you endured the faster your healing. Though, if the body sustained too much damage, it would lay dormant for a time. As if mimicking an actual death. Then, with suddenness, the wounds would heal and the immortal would regain life. Or at least that was Duncan's experience.

It was obvious now. This wasn't a fair fight. It was a betrayal for the sake of a distraction. He stepped back further in to the trees before allowing his eyes to search for the cameras mounted on the building and surrounding areas. Four in total but only two in full view of the fight and it's spectacular finale'. But the FDLE clearly didn't have the recordings or they would have seen it followed by their dead detective walking out of the morgue. No, this was part of the plan. This person already known that they could either remove or destroy the recordings. Sixteen camera's visible from the front and only four in the rear. It wasn't someone being clumsy and it wasn't a failed attempt from a weaker immortal trying to get an advantage on a stronger one. No. This was calculated. His curiosity satisfied he headed back to his car taking care to remove the disguise while out of anyone view. He was sure to carry the bag with him all the way to the car. He would dump it later. It always paid to remember that this new world had eyes everywhere. A part of him wondered how long it would be until someone caught it all on video and posted it to every social site on the internet. How many more years or decades could they hide among normal people? He shook his head to clear the thoughts. Time to see if Joe had come up with anything.

—

They had been comparing notes and generally going about building the case scaffolding. Now they would have to begin working the case. Despite the tense start Raylan was quick to note the "Bureau Chief" Starke was more than a mere pencil pusher. She knew what she was doing. Wasn't all that hard on the eyes either. So far he was impressed.

As impressed as he was, he was more impressed by Art. Take the man out of the boss role and somehow that stick he always had up his ass was gone. This was the same man he taught shooting and tactics with, not the uptight bureaucrat he remembered from Kentucky. Well, if he was honest, a lot of that he brought on himself. He stood up from the table, removed his hat, and stretched his hands over his head.

"So, whats with the hat?" Jennifer asked.

Art chuckled as his phone rang. He pulled it out and consulted the screen. An odd look came over his face. Flashes of fear, anger, and resignation before it settled on worried. "Gimme just a minute, I probably need to take this." he said then quickly left the room. Raylan watched him walk out of the room. Something was odd about that call he thought. So, he watched Art for a long moment through the glass and then leaned forward with his hands braced on the table and looked down at a report. It was his business and none of Raylans.

"Are you a cowboy or something?" Jennifer asked again.

Raylan glanced up and found her leaned back in her chair staring at him. Damn those eyes were… "Whats that?" he managed to say. Surprising himself with how in control he sounded.

"Your hat. Is it a cowboy thing?" She asked.

Raylan hated that damn question. He look back down at the report partly in dismissal of the question and partly because he wasn't sure he could look away if he kept eye contact for another second. All he needed was a damn sexual harassment complaint to fill out his less than stellar employee file. Dan would probably kick his ass outta Florida again if that happened. "It keeps the sun off my neck and outta my eyes." He repeated for at least the billionth time in his career.

For her part Jennifer smiled slightly and went back to rereading Art's file.

—

Art answered the phone just as he exited the conference room. "Is Miss Perkins alright?" he asked tightly into the phone. His chest felt tight and his left had reflexively coiled into a tight fist.

"Yes, she is fine. I just spoke to Justin and everything is normal. Sorry I scared you." Joe said.

Relief spread throughout Art's body. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back and took a long deep breath and then blew it out slowly. When he opened them and looked around he could see Raylan watching him. He turned and strode down the hall as he spoke. "I think your about the only one who can appreciate my particular affinity." He said somewhat jokingly.

—

The Josephine Perkins discovery was a fascinating read for any watcher. In 1848 Sundra Kastigir found himself, once again, chained, manacled, and stuffed into a slavers cart. His watcher, Clive Stratton was a fifty year old Englishman who employed himself as a gambler. Clive had been watching Kastigir for twenty seven years. This was not the first time he had seen the resilient African a victim of "The most vile, heinous and barbaric of practices the world shall ever know." and would not be the last. The slavers were not planning on holding an auction that day. They were simply stocking up on water and supplies in a town somewhere south of Lexington, Kentucky. Clive had become adept at noticing when "his Sundra" felt the presence of another of his kind. Clive immediately scanned the area and committed the numbers to memory and later to his chronicle. "There were two young women trying desperately to control three unruly lads. Four men of their mid years, and one elderly woman with a cane."

It took Kastigir only a seconds uncertainty. Then he smiled broadly, threw back his head and laughed "as if his eyes beheld Don Quixote astride Rocinante". The elderly woman called to the slavers and announced her intent to purchase. They laughed at her unapologetically. She huffed and scuttled off. A half hour later there were more laughs when she returned and renewed he proclamation. Silence broke when she produced $400 from a coat pocket. Kastigir laughed on as the men showed her a variety younger specimens. The old woman pointed with a long boney finger and with a half smile said, "I want the laughing one."

Kastigir stayed with the woman through the winter and long enough to make several repairs to her homestead. He helped her setup a large vegetable garden built numerous chicken coups. Then , on the first day of summer, they traveled to Lexington where Josephine had papers declaring Kastigir a freed slave drawn up. They hugged and went their separate ways.

Unknown at the time, this immortal had never been cataloged. It wasn't until 1859 that she was assigned a watcher of her own. Thus began the most boring assignment any watcher could have the grave misfortune of receiving. Most days she woke and spent the day tending the garden or other chores. Every Saturday she would visit the market and buy supplies. Once every odd year she would travel to Louisville, pick a bank, spend a few hours inside, and then return immediately to her homestead. On the even years she would travel to Nashville, Knoxville, or Charleston and do the same thing only there she would stay one or two nights in a hotel. That's it. The same routine year after year. No variation. From time to time an immortal would stop by and spend a few days or a few weeks. She never fought, she never practiced, and no-one had ever seen her with a sword. She was just a sweet old lady. They all knew it was just a matter of time. One day, she would be visited by one that was not so friendly.

Art Mullen was born and raised Harlan. Though the family income was tight they tended to live a bit better off than most. On a grand scale, they were poor. Just not as dirt poor as most. His father was a good man and didn't drink heavily. His mother was kind and hard working. They lived in a small housing development and as such the neighbors were close and most of the time there were people around. People who resented his families better position in life. This is why he loved visiting his grandparents farm. He would spend a good deal of the summers there and though less frequent plenty of time in the fall and spring too.

He was 12 when he first met Miss Perkins. His grandparents owned farmland that shared her northern boundary. A creek ran through both parcels of land that eventually fed into the Kentucky river. The young Art would play, fish, and sometimes hunt along its banks never really paying any mind to who's land he happened to be on at the time. One humid August day Art was looking for a particularly good fishing spot when an old voice called to him from the opposite bank. "Boy, you bring me two brim up to the house for my supper." When he looked up he saw the terrifying old woman staring at him.

It was all he could do to holler back "Yes ma'am". She nodded curtly, turned, and made her way, every so slowly, back up the slight hill and then disappeared through the trees.

At first Art thought he might just turn and make his way back up the creek. But for some reason he never could quite put his finger on, he cast his line right there on that spot with every intent to fulfill his promise. It did't take long. Within an hour, Art had four brim and two small mouth bass. He had somehow stumbled on a honeypot. He spent another hour or so pulling fish of various species out of that magical spot. Then, he selected the ones he wanted to keep and tossed the others back in with a promise to collect them when they had a bit more time to fatten up. He found an old tree that crossed the creek fifty or so yards down the stream and dutifully trekked his catch across the overgrown field towards the Victorian style house in the distance. He found the old woman on the porch in a rocking chair reading a book.

"You bringin' me my supper?" she called without looking up.

"Yes ma"am" Art replied.

"Well, bring 'em on into the kitchen." She said as she pushed herself up and slowly walked through the front door. Art followed on her heels with a pail of fish in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. Once inside he couldn't believe his eyes. Nearly every wall of the first room was covered in bookshelves. Thousands of books of every size and thickness adorned them all. As the old woman lead him down a hall Art could see at least two other rooms similarly filled with shelves and books. A large desk and table with stacks of books and what looked like maps occupied one. Upon reaching the kitchen Art was again struck in awe. One entire wall was filled with cookbooks. Opposite them was a large and ancient looking cast iron stove. His eye settled on the ornate looking front of it. Embossed across the oven door that took up much of the middle was the word "Easter", a large "E" centered in a door on the upper left and the date "1885" on a small door on the bottom left. A small stack of firewood was stacked on another ornate looking cast iron rack just to the left of the stove.

She produced a skillet from one of the cabinets connected to the thick butcher block like counter surrounding a large porcelain sink. There were more cabinets and storage bins there than he had ever seen in that kitchen. The window over the sink looked out onto a huge and very well tended vegetable garden. "Well, lets see them brim." The woman said with a smile and patted a spot not he counter. Art sat the pale on the floor and pulled two big bluegill from the pale and placed them on the counter."

"Well now," she said eyeing the rest of his catch in the pale. "You sure found my honey hole, didn't ya?"

Art grinned broadly, "Yes Ma'am"

"Is that all you know how to say boy? Whats your name?" she laughed.

"Arthur ma'm but my folks call me Art" he said shyly as his cheeks flushed. Eager to pull the attention away from the deepening red of his face he pointed to the stove. "Is that a wood stove" he muttered.

The old woman looked back at him with a wry grin, "Nope, runs on fairy dust." She eyed him for a minute. "I guess I'll allow it." She said finally.

"Ma'am?" art asked questioningly.

"I guess I'll allow you to fish my honey hole. But, you gotta bring me some of the catch every now and then and sit a spell and talk to me. I like to hear about the world. How its changin'. Things like that." She told him. He soon agreed and over a cup of tea they talked about Harlan, Lexington, and the time his parents took him to the movies. Soon it was getting late and with a smile and promise to return Art headed for his grandmothers house.

So it went until Art entered the Marine Corps. The Vietnam war had ended and the the local job market was filled with hard eyed veterans eager to wash their hands of the military. Art figured that joining up was the best way to get a paying job and a way into college. His first accolade was a nearly impossible perfect accuracy record earning him the "Expert" firearms badge in short order. Tapped for sniper training Art instantly found success. Though, he admitted to himself, he wasn't entirely sure he could just drop a man he didn't know anything about. During his third year his Grandfather died followed by his grandmother a year later. His parents sold the farm and convinced him to leave the military life and go to college. The money from the farm sale was more than enough to cover his tuition. Art weighed his options and decided to pursue studies instead of a military career.

It was after he had graduated college and before his first job that he drove his mothers old '66 ford up the road that led to Miss Perkins old house. He knew she wouldn't be there but thought he might just ask the new residents if he could walk down to that old honey hole just for old times sake. As soon as he got out of the car he spotted her. His jaw fell open and he approached like in a dream. She sat on the same old rocking chair reading yet another book. As he approached, she called "You bring any fish for my supper?".

He knew then she was different. She hadn't aged a day. That wasn't an exaggeration. She really hadn't aged a single day since the last time he saw her. Then he stood only feet away from her, still slack jawed, she smiled and said "I'm betting' you got some questions for me." They made their way to the kitchen and sat at the table drinking tea in silence.

"How old are you?" Art asked cautiously.

She smiled at him and without a hint of humor said, "850 or 860 as far as I can tell. It was a long time before I knew how to count you see." She smiled and watched his eyes. Her words by themselves suggested a joke. Her eyes conveyed truth. Her voice told him it was real.

His confusion was evident in his stuttering voice once he fond it. "How… how is it possible?".

"Son, that is a complicated story and not one I think I need to tell you right now. Let all of this simmer for a bit." She said sagely.

They ate, talked, and finally Art said his goodbyes as Miss Perkins announced that she needed her "beauty sleep". Art promised to visit again soon and drove into town. He found the local bar and sat in stunned silence contemplating the days events while seemingly fascinated by the untouched whisky sitting in front of him. He sat there like that for a long time. "Mind if I join you?" came a good natured voice from behind him. "Uh, I'm kinda working though some things right now." Art replied. The man awkwardly mounted the bar stool next to him anyway and waived to the barman for a double whisky.

"Yeah, I've been there. Not sure what to think. You can't believe it. Its not possible. Yet its looking you right in the face." The man said.

Art was silent for a long minute. "Uh, I'm not sure what you mean." He stammered.

The man smiled and extended his had, "Hi, I'm Joe. Joe Dawson"

—

"Yeah, I understand alright." Joe replied. "Nothing to worry about there my friend. She hasn't altered her routine in what, forty years?" Joe asked.

Art chuckled. "Something like that. Give or take a couple hundred. Let me guess, your not calling to tell me Justin's cracked the book mystery are ya?"

There was a deep breathe on the other end. "No." Joe said and then paused. "I 'm calling to ask for a favor"

"Is this favor for you or for your Scottish buddy?" Art asked knowingly.

There was a long pause on the line. "Sorry to bother you." Joe said stiffly.

"Now hold on just a minute, I didn't say no." Art said quickly before Joe had a chance to end the call. "I just wanted to be clear about it is all. He was more than helpful during our little family squabble and lord knows I'm the last guy that needs to be preachin' about gettin' personally involved." Art added.

"I hate asking but this situation is pretty high profile." Joe admitted.

"Yeah, I'm kinda in the middle of one of those here myself. What do ya need?" Art said.

"I 'm trying to avoid calling down to Florida. Jack doesn't like me too much." Joe chuckled, "Hell I don't blame him really. Still, I'd rather not fuel any rumors about me helping MacLeod again." Joe finished.

Art was taken aback. "MacLeod's in Florida?" Art asked. He had ventured as far down the hall as he could so he turned and started slowly meandering his way back the way he came.

"We both are. Listen can you use your network to get some info for me?" Joe asked. "Don't worry, I'm not going to put you in the middle of Jacks business." He concluded.

That's when Art felt it. That sensation where you knew things were connected but you couldn't yet see how. "What kinda information?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm hoping for a list of the immortals in South Florida that used a basket hilt English broadsword from the early 1600's."Joe said.

Art caught the tip off. "Used?" he asked.

"Yeah. MacLeod was asked to consult with the cops in Miami about a couple of antique swords used in some local beheadings. This isn't the usual drug lord stuff. No spectacles were made and Mac's absolutely sure one of the swords was used to take a head recently." Joe divulged.

Art stopped on a dime. "What? They know that?" Art asked incredulously.

Joe sounded al little excited with his explanation. "Yeah. It's a sensation they get. Not as strong as the when another immortal is near but unmistakable. Almost like when they meet a pre-immortal."

For the second time in mere moments Art was flabbergasted. "They can feel when someone is about to be an immortal?" Art asked.

"Sometimes. Listen this is all going in Mac's journal but I don't want anyone to know just yet. I get enough shit over my relationship with him, you know?" Joe pleaded.

Art considered this for a second. "Alright. But you and I need to talk about all this. I wanna know more detail."

Joe laughed. "Yeah, sure but it goes both ways."

Art smiled knowingly. "You wanna know about the books."

"Damn right! I watched her for three years. Never could figure it out." Joe responded.

Art agreed and then something struck him. He stopped walking and stood again outside the conference room looking out over the small sea of cubicles and the Marshals at their various tasks. "I thought you said it was a high profile situation. How come I haven't heard about it.?"

Joes sounded odd when he replied. "Well, I don't think the news has gone national yet, thank God, but it's all over the TV here. A Detective was killed and then his body was stolen. They found the body of whomever it was that carried that broadsword very near the building. It looks like the quickening was used both to knock out the electricity and provide a nice distraction for somebody getting out of the morgue." Joe said. "MacLeod thinks it was a hunter looking for an apprentice with more useful skills. Anyway, this hunter has left two headless corpses complete with swords in as many days. Mac's worried that its going to start a snowball investigation. They all fear that." Joe said.

Art turned nearly ghost white. He was silent as he tried to find a way that this wasn't right on his doorstep. "Joe, I'll get you the info on the sword and I'll call you back on the other. I gotta go." He said mechanically and disconnected the line. He turned and looked through the glass at Raylan and Jennifer for a few moments until Raylan sensed his stare and locked eyes with him.

Joe looked at his phone confused. He was glad he was going to get the list but what else had he asked for? Surely Art wasn't going to tell him about the books over the phone, right? No, that wasn't it. He sounded, well, like a cop again. Oh well, he'd either find out or he wouldn't. He still had a few other resources to check. It wouldn't do to have all your eggs in one basket.

—

Art kept the stare down with Raylan going as he entered the conference room. Once the door had closed behind him he looked at each of them in turn. Then, as if he were still the head honcho, he shoved his hands in his pockets, narrowed his eyes and asked, "Now, I don't remember anybody telling me about missing bodies, headless mystery corpses and antique swords. Did I have a senior moment there or are my two partners keepin' me fishin' with a dry hook?"

Raylan sat back in his chair and took on a slightly defensive posture, well at least what that looked like on Raylan, Art thought. Jennifer just looked confused. She turned to look at Raylan and saw him still staring at Art.

"You didn't tell him the body was missing?" she asked.

"Well, aren't you informed." Raylan stated.

"Seriously?" Jennifer asked a little annoyed.

Raylan looked over at her. "We were still workin' on background here. Hadn't got to the details yet." He looked back at Art with a bewildered/bemused look on his face. "Besides, we ain't workin' that side of it right now. This old buzzard I used to know always told me to keep to MY assignments and stop pokin' my ass into places it didn't belong. Besides, we don't even know if it's related. Wouldn't exactly be the first head some cartel or other had a head removed."

"With a half a million dollar sword?" Art asked sarcastically.

Both Jennifer and Raylan replied on top of each other, "What?"

"Where the hell did ya get that number?" Raylan asked as Jennifer blurted "How could possibly know that?"

Art help up both hands. "Thats just a guess. The FDLE sent it out to be assessed. You should get the real number back soon. Whatever it is, it ain't cheap and it ain't fake."

Jennifer picked up her phone and started dialing Colleen.


	5. Chapter 5 - Teamwork

It was a rough start. Colleen couldn't deny that. The revelation that Jim had conspired to hide the disappearance of Ray in Washington was met with tears of understanding. "He was trying to give you the day without this hanging over your thoughts." Colleen had said. Callie had nodded and managed to squeeze a few more tears where Colleen was sure none remained. Jeff had pleaded with his mother to understand. In response she held him while he cried protestations of Ray's innocence into her shoulder. Colleen was sure that neither he nor Callie were really convinced of that. She tried to give them a little space to have what was certainly a very private moment. Instead, she focused on Carlos. He did not look well.

He sat stoically as far across the room as he could get and Callie never even glanced at him. This was tearing him up both privately and professionally. She needed to keep a very close eye on him. Colleen hoped he and Callie would eventually both see the absurdity in blaming Carlos for the body theft. That was on Colleen. The security of the FDLE station was ultimately her responsibility and she had no doubt that administratively there would be hell to pay. Rightfully so, she thought. This was something that had never happened before. Now they needed to ensure it would never happen again. But, all of that was for another time. A part of her noticed when a relative calm had settled into the room. OK, She needed to focus on the real reasons they were here. Deputy Givens had no issue getting right to the heart of it.

"I know your both grieving and if I could give you more time to do it, I would." He said cooly. "But, right now, I need to find Ray." He held up a hand to suppress Jeff's inevitable defenses. "Now, I'm not sayin' he did it. But we need to find him and verify where he was when it happened. That's the best way to rule him out."

Jeff nodded and Callie looked away. They could all feel her surpassing her anger. Then her eyes narrowed and she turned a hard edged gaze on Raylan. "How long has he been missing… exactly how long?"

"We can't be exact. Part of relocation is that we don't risk too much contact. That can cause too much attention and thats bad." Raylan shared focus between Callie and Jeff. "After Deputy Morales shared his concerns, they started looking in on Ray more often. The last contact we had was a little over two weeks ago."

"What concerns?" Callie said.

"He thought Ray and Jeff were gonna try to talk in between visits." Raylan responded.

Colleen caught the omission and was more than a little thankful for it. The Marshal looked tough but seemed to understand the delicate emotional balancing act going on here. At least he was a the moment. Colleen needed to remember that this was the same guy that reportedly shot up half of Kentucky at one point. She imagined that kind of a loose cannon could go rogue at any moment. Her thoughts drifted to Carlos in the corner. If it wasn't for his breathing and occasional movements, she would have assumed him asleep. Damnit, she had to focus!

"Is that all?" Callie asked. She seemed to have caught something in Raylans eyes. "Is that all he was afraid of?"

The Deputy looked at her squarely and shook his head slightly. "No ma'am. He thought Ray might try to jump ship and take Jeff with him." He said matter of fatly. Well shit! That had gone off the rails fast Colleen thought. Though experience told her not to interject. She need to watch Jeff for his reaction.

"I thought so." Callie said and then tuned to Jeff expectantly. He sat motionless and wide eyed. It was the biggest tell in history and they all knew it.

—

Duncan sat in the waiting area of the FDLE lobby silently willing Danial to quickly come for him. Every few minutes the receptionist would cast a furtive glance in his direction. After many centuries, he knew that look. She was nice enough he reckoned but Duncan had other things on his mind. Joe's vaunted Watcher network was drawing a blank as far as Duncan could tell. Joe had seemed frustrated at first and then oddly relaxed a few hours later.

"Don't worry Mac, I've got a source really close to the investigation. He sort of stumbled into this himself. His involvement means I don't have to play with the truth on this. We just gotta be patient." Joe had reassured him.

Duncan had many virtues… well some virtues anyway… but patients wasn't one of them. There were no real leads to follow after his inspection at the back of the FDLE building. The language work at the university should have been more rewarding. He may well have been the last person to ever have a full grasp of many Native American languages. Duncan very much felt it part of his duty to posterity to help preserve them in living detail. Yet, it just felt like busy work. Truth be told, it was a momentary distraction. He needed to find this immortal before things got worse. He needed some avenue to explore. Some way to track this man down.

So it was, in near desperation, that he phoned Daniel and asked if he needed consulting help on the second sword yet. Normally, Duncan would never have made that move. But, he had absolutely nothing to go on. Hopefully, if he kept his eyes and ears open, he could pick up something to help that along while he was here.

"Oh yeah, I have been meaning to call you. It's just been so busy around here. Why don't you come in this afternoon… Unless that conflicts with your schedule." Daniel suggested.

"No, it's fine. I'll be there around three." Duncan said sounding far more casual than he felt.

"Great! Do you need directions?" Daniel asked somewhat distractedly.

"Its the same building I took you to, right?" Duncan asked with only a hint of amusement.

"Oh, yeah, right. Thats it." Daniel confirmed. Duncan could tell that the young mans attention had already refocused on whatever task he had interrupted. Duncan ended the call and paced around his hotel room until it was time to go to the university. Thats when time really slowed down. Minutes seemed like weeks. He was sure his hosts were a little annoyed at his distractedness and he was certainly annoyed with their persistence. Even though this was why he had come here in the beginning. It was to everyones great relief when one of the professors suggested that the staff take the remainder of the day to 'organize the trove we have pulled from you thus far' thereby allowing him to leave a half hour earlier than expected. Duncan drove to a coffee shop close to the FDLE building and waited very impatiently for those never-ending minutes to tick away. Perhaps he would spend a few hours in the hotel gym this evening pressing himself in meditative yoga. That might re-center him.

Just as he was having that thought Daniel came bustling into the reception area.

"Hi. Sorry I took so long. Its been a crazy morning." Daniel said in greeting. "Follow me, back." He said as he handed Duncan a visitors lanyard. They began weaving their way back through the various offices and cubicles. Duncan's practiced eye took in everything. There were a series of mobile whiteboards with various gruesome images tacked to them. Mostly it looked like investigations into various drug cartels or single murder investigations. As they continued deeper into the center of the building he began to sense the mood change. It was obvious that this was not business as usual. Thats when his eyes focused on the three mobile whiteboards against the far wall . He could see images tacked up with lines and labeled with what he assumed were document numbers. On the second were a list of names. A bright red circle was hastily drawn around the name Jody Cargil along with the words "In Custody" in block letters off to the side. Duncan quickly scanned the rest of the board and found more names listed down one side. Ray Cargil, Gio Reyes, Eduardo Garcia, and Nathan Bridger were all underlined. There were other phrases with blue question marks after them. 'Chicago Police Revenge', 'Reyes/Garcia Connection', 'Open Cases', 'Recent Releases'. 'Fathers Business Connections', and 'Enemies' adorned the second board. The third seemed to be a listing of assignments. Duncan was a little surprised to see the workload listed below Daniels name. As they walked Daniel was repeatedly stopped and either asked questions or given additional tasks. He never seemed exasperated Duncan noted. He would provide answers or dutifully accept the task and move on. It was impressive.

During these small stops Duncan would surreptitiously read open documents or glance at computer screens. This turned out to be a boon. Most of the time he and most immortals considered their amazing memory to be a burden. Vivid emotional memories stuck with most people for a few years and then dulled over time. Not so with immortals. Their memories remained just as vivid as the moment they were experienced for centuries or even millennia. But, there were times it was extremely helpful. Like when a single glance at a name or address could be relied upon for that same eternity. He now knew where Longworth lived as well as his fiancé and the circled Jody Cargil. He knew the location the second body was found and the addresses and last known whereabouts of all the underlined names. A good haul he thought. As they approached Daniels desk Duncan could see two card board boxed placed side by side on the table behind the desk. He instantly recognized the box that had contained the first sword. It wasn't hard to conclude what lay hidden in the second.

Duncan attentions moved to a group of pictures laying on Daniels desk. Images of the first and second swords. His eye was drawn to the image of the sword he had inspected at the hotel. It sat atop a stack of folders and other papers. The stack was secured with a rubber band. Clearly this was research associated with that sword. Daniel had been busy indeed. The second image was paper clipped to a single folder. As soon as his eyes took in the detail, he froze.

Daniel followed Duncans gaze and nodded. "Yeah, thats it." He said as he retrieved the folder and handed it to Duncan. "We would appreciate anything you can tell us about this one."

Duncan's mouth went dry. He stared at the sword for a few moments dumbstruck. "Thats impossible." He muttered.

Daniel looked at him perplexedly. "You don't know anything about that kind of sword?"

"It's a 17th century reproduction of a 10th century Viking Spatha." He said dispassionately. He cleared his throat and continued as he stared transfixed at the second box. "It is almost exactly 84 centimeters in length and weighs a little over 2 pounds. The balance is nearly perfect. The forging technique was rather advanced for the time. The precision and craftsmanship would be difficult to match even with modern tools."

Daniels face brightened. "Thats great! You know lot about this sword." He said as he dived for a notebook and paper. "Do you know who owns it?"

Duncan tried to look away from the box only feet away but could not. "I do." He said simply.

—

Jennifer asked Art to drive back to the FDLE building while she sent text messages and further coordinated the search of Jodi's home. She wanted to get Jodi in the interrogation room before her buzz wore off and she became defensive. They really needed to know who else was there. She had tried calling Colleen earlier a couple of times but got no answer. She decided to text her the highlights as they drove.

"It may not be strictly ethical, but I think we need to try to interview Jody. As soon as she's sober she'll demand a lawyer and we won't get anything." Jennifer said as her thumbs flew over the smart phones screen.

"You might wanna get Director Manus' take on that. I don't think she did it but you don't want to let her slide on a technicality if she did do it." He said logically. "If she can't think clearly enough to resist answering questions that could incriminate her then they have a handle to hold onto. I've seen exactly that kinda thing let a few mobsters walk."

Jennifer thought for a moment. Art was right, if Jodi did it, interviewing her in a drunken state could be hard to defend. She latched onto an idea. "Waiting for latent print matched on what, 400 pictures, various beer cans, bottles and everything else could take weeks. What if we visited her in lockup and ask if she knows who destroyed all the pictures we found in the drawer." She said slyly.

Art smiled. "No recordings in lockup?" he asked.

"No sound recordings in lockup." She corrected.

Art looked thoughtful. "Might work. It's not strictly ethical though."

"Yeah, well, we all have our burdens." She said as she finished her texting and then turned her gaze on him. "Do you have a problem with it?"

Art chuckled. "Me? Hell, I'm retired. I forget all sorts of things at my age."

Jennifer smiled and refocused her attention on the smart phone as it chimed the receipt of a new message. "Ouch!" she winced. "It didn't go well. They are just leaving Callie's now."

"Shit!" Art said frowning. "Was it Raylan pushin' too hard on the boy?"

"I don't know." She admitted as she quickly punched out another response. "They are headed back to the station too. I guess we'll find out there."

Jennifer and Art arrived first deciding to post up in front of main crime boards. Art made right for the coffee machine asking her in transit if she wanted any. Jennifer declined and started wiping off the far right board. She needed to catalog all they found at Jody's. Art returned with his coffee and helped her for a few minutes before his cell phone rang. He excused himself and wondered into an adjacent conference room.

Jennifer busied herself making lists and mapping out the facts and scenarios they had so far.

—

Carlos sat in the back of the car in watching nothing as he reflected on the events of past few hours. Objectivity is what he needed now. Lock the emotions in the far recesses of his mind and approach everything anew. He had allowed his self loathing to cloud his mind for far too long. Callie was right. He did owe her. He owed her and Jim and Jeff… and himself. He shook his head and cleared his throat. The voice that spoke was steady and professional. It drew immediate eyes in the rear view mirror. Even the Marshal turned his head around to look at him.

"Your thinking about replacing me on this case." Carlos began. Colleen looked as though she was about to say something but he continued before she could speak. "I don't blame you for that but it would be a mistake. So, I am going to ask you to give me two days before you decide. After that, if I am still a liability, I will step aside without a fight."

Marshal Givins stared at him for a long moment and Carlos felt as though he was being measured. Then he looked at Colleen for a long moment before he spoke. "Turn right up here."

"Thats not the way back to the station." She said

"I know, turn right at the light." He insisted. Colleen complied. "Now go on down there lights and turn left. There's a green building on the left with parking lot next to it. Just pull in there."

Again Colleen complied as they again rode silently. As she parked the car in the first available space she asked the obvious question. "Is this a bar?"

"Yep. I've done this job a long time. Sometimes, some shit happens and you just need to put things on pause a minute so's you can focus later. Some folks do yoga, I like whisky." Raylan said. Colleen glanced between him and the bar looking confused. The Marshal continued, "Now as I see it, you got three options. One, you back up and we go on to the station. Two, you call my boss and I get my ass seemed and bounced from this case. And then there's number three."

"Whats number three?" Carlos questioned.

"Number three is that you both recognize that was some intense shit. Ain't neither one of ya in your right head over this. Thats OK, for now. But you gotta reset. Wipe it clean." The marshal offered. "Now, I'm gonna go in there and take ten minutes to reset. If ya'll wanna stay here and do some yaga, fine. Otherwise, they got clean glasses, good whisky and do a passable job pourin' it." With that, the Marshal got out of the car and began moseying towards the bar.

Carlos met Colleen's eye in the rear view. They held that stare for a long moment. Then Colleen got out of the car. Carlos smiled and followed suit.

As they entered the cavernous bar they noticed it was completely empty save a short and ancient looking bar tender reading a magazine.

"Bar keep, I'll have the usual." The Marshal said turning to Carlos and Colleen assessing. They stood nervously looking around. "I guess they will too."

The barman dutifully sat three tumblers down I a row and poured Early Times in each. The Marshal pushed a glass each towards them and leaned against the bar. Then, without preamble, threw it back. Colleen and Carlos spared one more look at each other and did the same.

Colleen came up sputtering. "That was terrible." She winced.

Carlos squeezed his eyes together and shook his head. "That was not good."

The Marshal smiled and proffered his glass to the barman. This time the man poured measures of Blanton's Original Single Barrel into the glasses.

"So it don't make sense that Ray was playin' the boy just to get close enough to shoot Detective Longworth…" Raylan began before Colleen cut him off.

"Jim. His name was Jim." She said and took a tentative sip. "Thats much better."

Carlos took a tentative taste and had to agree. "Yeah, Why the shitty one first?" he asked.

"One for the past. One for the present." Givins offered. "Like I was saying' it don't make no sense that he was usin' the boy to get to Jim. I think he was just gonna take his son and go somewheres unexpected."

Colleen nodded, "I think so too, but he would need money to do it."

Carlos took spun the glass in small controlled circles as he listened. That made sense. Ray's was looking at an impossible reality. He had a relationship with his son that, if the WitSec rules were followed, meant he would never see him again. His endgame would be to abscond with his son. Carlos was half expecting to hear Jeff say that he had decided not to go at the last moment. It would have made sense that Ray would then fly into a rage and strike out at his sons new surrogate father. But that was not what Jeff had said.

Instead, he had confessed that he and his father would be leaving Florida a few days after the wedding. He even produced a letter explaining his reasons to his mother and Jim. He had promised to contact them whenever he could to let them know not to worry. It was another unendurable pain Callie had been forced to accept.

Her friend, Dr. Buckley had come in about that time along with Callie's sister. They had immediately rushed to Callie's side for support and Carlos felt grateful that when they left she had people to lean on. It was all seven hells burning bright, hot, and unforgiving for that poor woman. Carlos looked deeper into his glass and took another drink.

"So, he used to smuggle drugs for Reyes. Reyes wants him dead. But he needs cash and Reyes has enough to spare." Giving offered and took a drink.

Carlos caught the angle. "But Ray doesn't know where the operations at now. How's he going to steal from Reyes without knowing that?"

"He doesn't know where but he does know who." Colleen explained.

Givins nodded. "His testimony was about Reyes and the shit that happened while he was there. There were some names given but usually they were the bosses. He didn't talk much about the grunts."

"Right, they weren't important enough to the case." Colleen agreed.

"So, he knows the labor force. He follows them, jumps them, and gets a load of cash to disappear with?" Carlos asked.

"Yep. Thats what I figure." Givens said and sat his glass down once more on the bar. The barman smiled and poured another round. The Marshal pulled out his wallet and tossed a few bills on the bar and turned to them without touching the glass. "I think we need to find out if Reyes is missing somethin'." With that he he began ambling towards the door.

"Aren't you going to finish your drink" Colleen said. She also hadn't touched her third.

Carlos had the glass halfway to his lips when the Marshal replied. "If ya can't walk away from it, it ain't medicinal. Took me a while to figure that one out."

Colleen smiled and followed him towards the door. Carlos eyed them and then barman who was still smiling. Then he regretfully sat the glass down and left the bar.

—

Art answered his phone on the third ring and quickly excused himself to a nearby conference room. "Hey, Jack, whats up?"

"We have a problem." Jack said sounding concerned. "Sharron Davis missed her last two check in's. She's Le Carne's watcher. So, given all the carnage down there I asked a local friend to drop by where she's staying. The place is a shambles. Looks like someone tossed it. Her car is missing and I'm a little worried."

"You want me to look into it?" Art guessed.

"Yeah, I do. I don't have anyone else and it looks like my guy is about to take a trip to Dallas." Jack said desperately.

Art show his head as he considered. Well, he'd find out sooner or later and right now Art had few choices. "It's gonna be a bit before I can break free." He said cautiously. As he did he could hear the struggled pull of duties in Jack's sigh. "But… I bumped into someone else down here that can swing by and have a look."

The relief in Jacks voice was edgy but there. "OK. I'll take what I can get. Who is it?"

"Joe Dawson." Art said confidently. The silence on the phone was palpable. "I know you two have a history Jack but he is damn good. He'll track this down pretty quick."

There was another long silence. "OK. Like I said, I'll take what I can get." Came Jacks robotic reply. "Just you make sure he keeps you, and ONLY you in the loop on this."

Art knew exactly what Jack was referring to by 'Only'. Unfortunately, Art was certain that caveat just wasn't in the cards. "Sure. I will." He lied. Jack relayed the information and art scribbled it on sticky note he found on a desk just outside the conference room. "Got it. OK Jack, I better go. I'll keep you updated."

Art looked up and saw that Colleen and Raylan were back. He'd better make this a quick call and get over there. He dialed Joe's number while walking back into the conference room and was surprised to hear an answer almost as quickly as it began to ring. "Hey Joe, listen I got a job for ya and I need it done right now." He said quickly. Joe listened to the quick summery and agreed to help.

"Alright, I'll head over now." Joe said and quickly hung up. Art always appreciated Joe's sense of urgency. As he opened the conference room door to walk out to common area he nearly stumbled into Daniel leading someone in. His phone was still in his right hand and nearly up to his ear and Daniel had to dodge his elbow else take it full on in the nose. Art and the stranger both acted quickly to steady Daniel. "Sorry 'bout that. You alright?" Art apologized.

"Yeah. Sorry, I didn't know you were in there. We can go to another room." Daniel said quickly.

"No. I'm done in here." Art said and then spared a brief glance at the stranger. Except, he wasn't a stranger. Art knew the moment they locked eyes he was burned. That cold appraising look and stiff smile were locked onto him. They stood there a brief moment just looking at one another.

Daniel took a moment to remember his manners. "Oh, uh. Duncan this is Deputy, or uh, Special Deputy Marshal Mullen. Uh, Deputy Mullen this is Duncan MacLeod. He is here to help us identify and track the, uh, swords." Daniel said has he took in the odd way these two were watching each other.

Art broke the moment first. "Well, we certainly appreciate any help we can get." He said as he side stepped allowing them a path into he conference room.

MacLeod nodded and broadened that stiff smile. "Glad to help."

Daniel entered the room quickly and dropped a notepad and pen on the table. Duncan casually made to follow and then stopped and cocked his head towards Art. "I like your watch. My friend Joe has one just like it."

Their eyes met for a brief second. Art was taken aback. Did he just say that? "Thanks." Art nodded. "It's a good one. Real dependable."

Macloed nodded and moved into the conference room. Art turned and watched them go into the conference room. Wow, he thought. Just Wow! He'd heard stories of how MacLeod just felt different. It wasn't the age thing. Hell, he'd spent a week with Adam Pierson once. He hadn't got the slightest inkling of anything other than pure geekdom outta that guy. Even Mrs Perkins didn't have that, well presence. It was odd. As he turned back he saw both Jennifer and Raylan watching him. He smiled and hurried over to the forming scrum near the boards.

—

"That sounds awful." Miranda Buckley said tearfully. "Oh, honey. You know they're doing everything they can." She said as she held her sobbing friend close. Callie had just finished relating the story of what happened in the kitchen. It had been an intense scene she had walked into. There were tears, and hurt feelings, and accusations, and horrible things said.

It took a long time for them to settle everything down as the three police, or whatever, had left. Jeff was barricaded in his room and Callies sister was making tea and trying to calm herself down. Miranda held onto to Callie. It was all she could think to do. She had no idea how Callie was holding up this well. All she knew is that she wouldn't have. Thats when the crash came from the kitchen. It followed by a shockingly loud, "Shit!". Callie's sister came through the kitchen door with her hand wrapped in a tea towel. Miranda could see the blood starting to soak through and got up to help. Callie stayed on the couch still too drained and out of it to assist.

"Here, let me take a look." Miranda told the woman. The cit was a little over two inches long and ran lengthwise from the thug pad over the wrist narrowly missing the prominent veins. "It's not serious but it is pretty deep." She offered. "Callie, where do you keep bandages, and antiseptic?" she asked. Callie didn't immediately reply. So she prompted again. "Callie? I need…"

Callie cut her off mid sentence. "My med kit is in hall closet."

Miranda instructed her patient to sit and quickly fetched the kit. As she worked on the cut she spoke aloud for no more reason than to fill the air. "I have a a kit I keep in the car, in my apartment, and even my gym bag. You never know when someone is going to need help. As soon as you get that 'Dr.' Attached to your name it's like your running a free clinic" she laughed. Callie shot up from the couch so quick she startled both women.

"Damnit!" Callie cried. "Why the hell didn't I remember that while they were here? Damnit!" Callie found her shoes and then made to ready herself to go someplace.

Miranda was stunned. What was she going on about. "Sweetie, whats the problem?" she asked.

"They had to be involved somehow! They had to be." Callie said without responding.

"I don't understand. Who's involved?" Miranda asked even more confused.

Callie stopped and her eyes met Miranda's. "They would have went to see Jody. She'll know where they are or how to find them." She said.

Miranda could see the anger seething in Callie's eyes. "Ok, let me get this bandaged up and I'll go with you."


	6. Chapter 6 - Suspects Considered

Art walked up as Colleen was finishing her explanation of what they had learned at Callie's. She only briefly alluded to the emotional intensity by saying, "It was a little rough." Art watched for a disproving look towards Raylan. It didn't happen so he figured the drama wasn't his fault, for a change. So, Ray Cargill had made plans to spirit the boy away after the wedding. That made a certain sense, Art thought. But why kill the Detective before the wedding? He was sure a guy with Ray's savvy would know they'd like him for the murder first. Especially after his going AWOL from WitSec. Something wasn't adding up.

As soon as she finished Jennifer gave a run down of what had happened at Jody's. Art's involvement, and the theory of what they had stumbled into took center stage. Raylan eyed Art appreciatively. That put Art's hackles up. He hadn't retired 'cause he couldn't do the damn job anymore. He retired because he had other commitments. Well, that and he didn't want to be in charge anymore. Raylan himself had wore that out of him. Endless mountains of paperwork, worrying himself over a man that had a damn death wish. It took a toll on a man.

Art snapped back to reality when he heard Raylan ask, "All the pictures of the boy were tucked away? All of 'em?"

"Yes" Jennifer replied.

"There weren't any on the walls or in the bedroom? On a dresser or somthin'." Raylan pressed.

Jennifer looked Art for confirmation. He shook his head as he answered. "Nope. It was a little odd. I figure she was shifting her protective proclivities to the boy and away from her son. "

Raylan gave an odd look. "Protecting him from who?" he asked.

Art thought for a minute. That was the thing that was bothering him. Sure it seemed logical that Jody would want to protect the boy. That made sense. But why hide ALL the pictures in a drawer? For all his faults, Raylan always could zero in on the problem. Not only did they need to know who was there, but why Jody felt it necessary to protect Jeff from them. "Guess thats a question for our detainee." Art stated to the room.

"I'll send someone to get bring her up for interrogation." Colleen said.

Art shot a look at Jennifer who smiled slightly. "That's OK, I'd like to go get her." Jennifer said cooly. "We didn't get a chance to bond properly before."

Colleen gave her and odd look and then nodded. "Ok. But, I want first crack at her." Colleen announced. Jennifer confirmed her consent and smiled at Art. If he had been about thirty years younger, skinnier, and better looking, she'd be in real trouble.

At that moment Daniel came striding over and spoke quietly to Colleen. She motioned for him to share whatever it was with those assembled. "Mr. MacLeod has identified the second sword. It's a 17th century reproduction of a 10th century Viking Spatha. It was thought to be on loan, from a private collection, to the Museum of Natural History and Archeology at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology in Trondheim, Norway. Mr. MacLeod is helping me to figure out when it went missing."

"From a private collection?" Colleen asked. "Who's private collection?"

Daniel looked extremely nervous just then and gave a furtive glance towards the conference room. "Uh, well, thats the weirdest coincidence. Uh, it actually, uh, belongs to Mr. MacLeod." Daniel said hesitantly and then rushed to finish the tale. "He gave it to them in 1986 after he purchased it from a dealer in New York. The Museum regularly changes its displays and sometimes stores artifacts for several years before putting them out for viewing again." Daniel took a quick breath and continued. "Mr. MacLeod is on the phone with the curator who is driving to the museums storage facility now to confirm that this is the same sword."

Art's eyes narrowed and he looked at MacLeod through the glass of the conference room. He was pacing back and forth and talking into the phone. Something seemed awful convenient about this. How did one of his swords end up in this investigation? Joe had told him that MacLeod just happened to be the most qualified and knowledgable person in the area and that his involvement was strictly coincidental. Art wasn't sure that 'coincidence' was a real thing anyway. Most times, coincidences proved to be anything but.

Colleen looked worried. "Daniel, are you sure he wasn't in town when this happened?"

"Positive. His flight landed the next day from Brussels. I even have video of him going through customs." Daniel answered.

"Uh, wait a sec. Math wasn't my strongest subject but did you say 1986?" Raylan asked. "What would he have been, 14 or 15 at the time? That don't make sense."

Art winced internally. Raylan was too sharp. They were all missing that particular tree for the forrest. Well, that was something MacLeod was going to need to figure out how to smooth over.

Colleen nodded. "That's a good point. Daniel, can you check out his story?"

Daniel smiled. "I already did." He handed a photo copy of MacLeod's Belgian passport to Colleen. "He has good genes. He was born in 1954."

The room turned in unison to peer at the youthful appearance of an early 40 something man pacing the length of the conference room. Raylan let out a long whistle. "Damn Art, you better ask him for some tips."

Art frowned and looked back at Raylan. "I'd look like that too if you and Boyd Crowder hadn't decided to shoot holes in the entire state of Kentucky for four years straight. Took 20 years off my life."

Raylan looked dubious. "Uh huh. Well, maybe you should moisturize or dye your hair… whats left of it anyway." He offered sarcastically.

"I think he looks handsome just the way he is" Jennifer chimed in.

"He is a martial arts master. A Yoga master. He does Tai Chi daily and tries to follow the Bushido code. Also some Zen stuff." Daniel offered as explanation. "He says that and hair dye keep him looking younger."

"Told ya so." Raylan muttered.

"Asshole." Was Arts near silent retort.

"So you heard from Customs. Do you have anything on Le Carne entering the U.S.?" Jennifer asked.

Daniel smiled and nodded. "Yes, he entered through Tampa International nine days ago. It was a first class ticket and originated from Calgary. One checked bag. But, there was no mention of a sword. I double checked with U.S. Customs and they say if he brought a sword with him, they would have noted it."

"So the sword was already here." Colleen concluded.

This was a problem that Watchers had spent a considerable effort trying to discern. How the hell did they travel the world and still manage to bring a given sword? Modern technology be damned, they all seemed to be able to carry one with impunity. He'd have to ask Joe if MacLeod had ever enlightened him on that front. For now, he needed to come up with a plausible explanation as to why the victim had ended up with a sword in Florida that he was rumored to own but didn't bring with him. "Well, I guess he could'a shipped it." He said weakly and was surprised when both Raylan and Jennifer both nodded in agreement.

"Im looking into that but without a known point of origin or delivery, its nearly impossible." Daniel said.

Again Art was impressed by this kids thoroughness. He couldn't help but wonder if this was the real reason Longworth had such a huge reputation for solving crimes quickly. That was great for the FDLE but more than a little disturbing for the Watchers.

Daniel turned abruptly and spoke to Art. "Have you had a chance to talk to your former colleagues?" he asked.

The question threw Art who was distractedly worrying over what they'd have to decide if Daniel got to close. "Sorry, what?" he asked to gain a little time to refocus on the question.

"He means have you talked to your geriatric buddies yet." Raylan said with a way grin.

With a clear 'screw you' look to Raylan, Art answered Daniel. "Sorry. No I havn't had the time to reach out yet." Privately Art was a little defensive. Hell, he had just mentioned it this morning. He thought it would buy him a few days. Damned inpatient youth trying to rush every damned thing. Stuff took time. Even half true predetermined shit like he and Jack had cooked up. Hell, Jack probably hadn't finished getting things setup yet.

Daniel smiled. "Thats ok. In the mean time I have setup a data warehousing cluster and asked a friend to help me write a search and collate algorithm to comb through the data sources from various federal and sate law enforcement agencies, InterPol, and nearly 400 news services world wide." Daniel turned to look at Colleen and continued excitedly. "We should have it finished in a few hours and then we can see the rate and scope of the data collection. If Mr. Mullen is right, we might get a better idea of what cartels use these methods. Maybe even known accomplices and if any of those people are in the area."

Art was completely flabbergasted. He wasn't 100% sure what all that meant but it sounded bad. He and Jack hadn't imagined anything like this. They just wanted to prove this wasn't an isolated serial killer. Allay fears and try to keep it as contained as they could. He started to worry even more. Unless he was way off base, this could start turning into a way to track immortals. Yep, it was bad alright.

"Listen, we don't even know that the sword stuff is even related to the detectives murder. It may just be a coincidence." Art pointed out just as Carlos came walking up to the group.

"We are now." Carlos said definitively. "Finger print analysis from the second sword." Carlos said and gave the folders in his had a little wave. "Two distinct sets. The first was the victims. A native of Texarkana, Texas named Sean Holcombe. His drivers license photo confirms he is our victim. Daniel, I believe this is now yours." Carlos said and handed a folder to Daniel.

Daniel took it and walked to a nearby computer.

Carlos addressed the room at large. "The second…" he drew the moment out as he opened a second folder and set it down on a desk near them. "Detective James Longworth"

Raylans phone range into the long silence that followed the bombshell and he quickly excused himself to a few steps away. Art's blood pressure was certainly rising. At that moment he couldn't imagine this getting much worse unless Jim Longworth happened to just walk on in and ask how the investigation was going. How the hell did he wander into this shit storm? Oh yeah, moonlighting for a few bucks. Thats how.

* * *

"Hey Tony, how are things goin' up there?" Raylan asked as he answered his phone.

"Hit a brick wall so I backtracked to the last confirmed sighting in Oregon. I've got photos and video of Ray and another man at a bank and at a convenient store in Portland. I've also got them on a gas station security camera in Durham driving a blue Nissan sedan. Current model so it could be a rental. No shot of the plates though." Tony reported.

"OK. Send me the pictures and I'll circulate 'em here." Raylan instructed.

"One more weird coincidence." Tony said teasingly.

"Looks like it's a day for those. Whatcha got?" Raylan said in prompt.

"Portland PD have an open homicide they are assisting with from King City. Thats located just south of Portland." Tony paused for a moment and then continued in near disbelief. "It's a headless corpse Raylan. The scene shows signs of an electrical storm of some kind. It blew out all the lights, transformers and windows of a strip mall. It fried all the computer systems too. Even the ones that were off. It's got everyone here baffled as hell. I couldn't help seeing the obvious similarities." .

Raylan shook his head. "Was the neck wound cauterized?" he asked.

"Yeah. It was. No other apparent wounds. Just a cleanly severed head. No sword either. I'll send you the detail." Tony responded.

Raylan ended the call and returned to the group and told the what Tony had learned. It might have been his imagination but Art seemed to turn a little green. Probably because he couldn't start shouting orders and organize some multi-jurisdictional task force. He knew the old codger was jonesing to take control.

"Is there anything to link Ray or the mystery guy to that murder?" Colleen asked.

"Nope. Just somethin' that's takin' a lot of the attention up there where he's lookin' for a trail that might lead to Ray."

Colleen Took at dip breath and seem to weigh something for a few moments. "Well, the wounds aren't an exact match and without the sword I think we can continue to work this without notifying the FBI. For now at least Ray is still just a suspect at large."

"I'd like to see the Autopsy reports on that victim." Carlos told Raylan. "Whatever they are using to do this cauterizing has to be portable and probably specialized equipment. Maybe, with more time and analysis, we can figure out what that thing is."

"I'll ask Tony to have them send it all over." Raylan assured him and then excused himself again. He had to call Tony but he wasn't ready to update Dan just yet. Dan would want some answers and Raylan just had questions. A shitload of questions.

* * *

Jennifer was eager to get the interrogation of Jody Cargil underway before she started to sober up and demand a lawyer. In fact, she was a little surprised that demand hadn't already happened. Records showed that Jody wasn't exactly a novice at dealing with the police. Art was right, her husband was both dead and a career criminal. He had started out as a biker and served time for grand theft and burglary.

As she walked down to the holding cells she considered how to approach Jody. The hard ass maybe? No. The concerned motherly type? Maybe. It all depended on how much she had sobered since they brought her in.

"You decided how your gonna rattle her yet?" Came Raylan's voice from behind her. She turned to consider him.

"Pictures of the grandson hidden in a drawer, right?" Raylan smiled. "I'm figurin' that's your plan. Somethin' about those pictures being all gone or somethin'? Am I right?"

"Why Marshal, whatever do you mean?" she played in a deeply southern gentile mockery.

"Uh huh. I used to be pretty good at rattlin' folks. Mind if I tag along?" he asked.

She seemed to consider him for a minute. "I haven't decided how to approach it yet. Bluntly. Slyly. Concerned. I might have to see her condition first. See if she has sobered any."

"The way I hear it, she's still three sheets to the wind and will be for a while." He said as they continued down the hall. "I find the best way to rattle them is to just let them overhear a couple a cops talkin' to each other. Let their imagination do the rest."

When they got to the holding cell Jody was sitting on a bench against the far wall. The jailer called to her and she responded the first time. She stood and walked uncertainly yet with a regal air about her. Still drunk Jennifer decided but not overly so. This might just work.

Raylan stepped up and gave the jailer a pair of cuffs so that he could secure Jody's arms behind her back. Then he took her by the arm and lead her down the hall just behind Jennifer.

"You sure this is her?" Raylan asked loud enough for Jennifer to hear over the noise of the detention center.

"Yep, this is her."Jennifer confirmed not knowing exactly where this was leading.

"I expected more. In my experience, most killers put up a fight." He said.

"Well, she's not normal. She's a whacko." Jennifer said to Raylan without looking back. "You should have seen her house. Beer cans and bottles of booze everywhere. Completely ruined the carpet, couches, tables…" Jennifer shook her head."It was a pig stye. Like the aftermath of Hells Angles party." She chuckled.

"Damn." Raylan replied. "And here she looks so classy."

"Yeah. Super classy." Jennifer laughed.

"I get the drinkin'." Raylan added "Sometimes it takes some liquid courage to go shoot a man. But why cut up all those pictures of her son and grandson?" he wondered aloud. "That just seems wrong. What the hell did they do?"

At the proclamation of the "and grandson" Jody Cargil stumbled and started to weep softly. Jennifer knew then that it had worked. It would take some pressing and patients but they'd get her to tell them. Simply because whoever was there had crossed the line. Her appreciation of the cowboy had gone up a few notches. Maybe he wasn't just a trigger finger with a badge and a nice ass.

* * *

Art watched as Raylan followed Jennifer down to get Jody. Colleen went to prepare for the interview and took Daniel with her. Carlos vanished back to wherever Carlos vanished to. Art decided to go have a little chat with Duncan MacLeod. He wasn't buying the sword thing being a coincidence. As soon as he entered the conference room Duncan ended his call.

"That the curator in Norway?" he asked.

MacLeod eyed him for a long moment before speaking. "Yes. The sword is definitely gone. Along with over twenty other treasures. It hasn't been on display in over eight years so they can't be sure when it was taken."

Art nodded as he crossed his arms in front of him and eyed Duncan. "Uh huh."

"OK, out with it then." Duncan said dropping all pretext. "You've got something to say, so say it."

"It just seems an awfully big coincidence that we got two headless bodies and one of them was fightin' with a sword you probably acquired though similar means." Art stated.

"I'm just as shocked about the sword as you are. I took that sword in 1720 while in Antwerp and I nearly lost my head in the fight. That was the last time it was ever used. Or at least thats what I thought until today."

"So your telling me that you don't know who might have the sword now?" At asked.

"Until 45 minutes ago I thought it was in Norway." Duncan said honestly. "I want to stop whomever is leaving bodies and swords laying around out there as much as you do."

"OK. I can accept that. But, we ain't gonna serve this guy up on a platter for you. If there is a way to stop it without blowing the lid off the whole thing or puttin' another notch in your belt, I'm gonna do it." Art said sternly.

Duncan was more than a bit annoyed. "Do you really think Longworth's death was a coincidence? The way I hear it he was some sort of investigative prodigy. Sean Holcomb out there" Duncan pointed to the head of the second victim pinned to the crime board, "was a Pinkerton. See a pattern?"

Duncan could see that Art was taken aback by this revelation. "How the hell do you know that?" Art responded.

"I met him before. His name was Howard Throckmorton then." Duncan replied. "I recognize him from the pictures. He pursued a friend of mine with a penchant for taking things that aren't hers."

"This friend still around?" Art asked.

"Yes. I'm trying to track her down but she likes to play hard to get." Duncan said.

"She capable of all this?" Art asked skeptically.

Duncan smiled. "Yes and no. She could best many in a fight but she would never have killed Throckmorton. They had a complicated friendship… and an understanding."

"An understanding?" Art seemed dubious. "Those can sometimes fade away."

"He helped her teacher out of a precarious spot once. She saved his wife from burning to death instead of making a clean get away. They have traded favors on and off ever since. She even taught him how to crack safes in 50's." Duncan explained. "Believe me, she was not involved in this. But, I'm almost certain that's how my sword ended up in his hands."

Art nodded, "She stole it for him?"

"No" Duncan said. "Show stole it from me and then he stole it from her. Like I said, it was a complicated friendship." Duncan paused for moments reflection, smiling slightly. Abruptly his face hardened. "If you look into Le Carne deep enough I think you'll find that he too was a detective of some sort once."

"Because you think he's huntin' for somethin'." Art guessed. "He needs detectives to help him find it?"

"Yes. Something or someone." Duncan concluded as he turned to look out of the conference room window. "I just need to find whoever or whatever it is first."

Art eyed him skeptically. "How the hell are you gonna do that? We've got no idea who we're lookin' for and even less an idea of what their lookin' for."

Duncan smiled broadly. "We have Jim Longworth and he is about to have a funeral."

Art shook his head 'no' firmly. "Listen, this guy wasn't stupid. No chance he'll show up there."

"Your thinking with your head. This man's life was just ripped from him. His future. He is either watching her daily or he plans on seeing her at the funeral. Either way, I also need to watch her." Duncan stated with determination.

"The finance'? Callie Cargill?" Art asked and received a nod from Duncan in return. "Now hold on a sec. That woman has been through a lot. She don't need to be drug into all this."

"She's already in this. If he doesn't get results soon, whoever is doing this will threaten her. Throckmorton wasn't an unskilled fighter. That means Longworth has no hope of defeating him without years of training. Training he doesn't have. As much as he will hate it, he'll do whatever he needs to do in order to spare her more pain." Duncan turned to face Art. "Believe me, your never more cognizant of the pain you cause others than when you wake from the dead."

Art seemed to ponder that for a moment. "Thats why he won't approach her?"

"At the moment, he is being taught as a student. A student helping to repay the master by using his special skills. Part of that training will be killing Longworth over and over with the sword, a gun, or whatever. Making him realize he is truly immortal. It will also make him realize he can't beat the teacher." Duncan told Art. His mind searched back to his instruction of Richie. He had been far more lenient with Richie than Connor was with him. Though, he could still see the horror in Richie's eyes each time the katana was thrust through him. Connor had always said that nothing would make him learn quicker than the expectation of that pain. He had to admit, Connor was probably right.

Duncan could see the realization sink into Art's eyes. Then came the inevitable revulsion. "Is that how ya'll do it?" Art inquired.

"Not all. But the second, fresher, pool of blood they found in the lab will also be Longworth's. I'm not sure what happened in there but he had to be convinced it was not a dream or a mistake." Duncan said sagely.

Art seemed to ponder this as Daniel walked into the conference room.

"Oh, uh, Marshal Mullen. Hi. Uh, they are about to question Jo… Uh, the suspect." He stammered as he picked up the mood in the room. His eyes flicking from Mullen to MacLeod assessing the situation.

Art looked at Daniel and smiled broadly. "Well then, I best be goin'." He then swung his gaze back to MacLeod. "Mr. MacLeod, it was a pleasure meeting you. I'm sure we'll talk agin soon." He said crisply and then left the room.

Duncan watched after him for a moment while Daniel busied himself opening his laptop.

"Chief Starke was able to give me a rough translation of the inscription on the blade." Daniel said as he opened his notebook and readied himself for the discussion.

Duncan seemed surprised. "She speaks Old Norse?" he said skeptically.

Daniel paused for a moment and then consulted his notes. "Uh, no. She said it was Icelandic. A poem of some kind. She said is says 'There is but one' or something close to that."

Duncan chuckled. "Of course."

Daniel looked evan more confused. "Is she wrong?" has asked quizzically.

"Yes, no, and maybe." Duncan said as he smiled knowingly. "The inscription does say 'There is but one'; however, the language depicted isn't Icelandic, it's Old Norse. The two languages are isomorphic. A person familiar with Icelandic would have little trouble reading and understanding Old Norse. Though they certainly sounded different in speech. Modern Cantonese and Mandarin are a good example. People that speak only one find that they can not understand the other. Yet, they can both read the same characters and interpret it correctly."

"Cool" Daniel said clearly fascinated. Then, snapping back to the task at hand he asked, "Did the curator verify that the sword is missing?"

Duncan's expression turned dower. "Unfortunately, yes. He is going to send me some high definition photos the Museum made of it over eight years ago. They should give us enough detail to absolutely confirm that it'sthe same sword. Obviously the blade has been sharpened and the grip has been changed. Apart from that it looks precisely as I recall."

As if on queue Duncan's phone buzzed. He pulled it out and brought up the first image. Daniel stood and unpacked the Spatha from its carton and placed it on the table. "I think we need to identify several unique features on both sides just to make sure." Daniel suggested.

Moving closer to the sword they set about the task of trying to find those features.

* * *

The interview room setting was specifically designed to intimidate the suspect. A single stainless steel table stood bolted to the floor in the center of the room. Only slightly less ominous than the dominating table was the two way mirror that took up roughly half of the far wall. Sharp florescent lighting hummed noisily as it drew cold attention to the dingy white walls and industrial grey concrete flooring. The only sign of technology was microphone boom that hung suspended over the center of the table. A single stainless steel chair was placed at the center of the table so that its occupant had no choice but to look across its spartan expanse to the two way mirror beyond. This was again in stark contrast to the two well cushioned and warm looking chairs on the opposite side of the table. There were no windows and little sound penetrated the thick reenforced cinderblock walls.

The final touch of intimidation was controlled by the observers behind the mirror. A themostat which kept the room at whatever temperature the controllers desired. Sometimes heat was applied raising the temperature to a stifling maximum of 82 degrees. Other times the temperature would dropped to chilling 58 degrees. Directly behind and to the sides of the suspects chair were strategically vents capable of pushing uncomfortably cold air onto the suspect. Fans in the ducting behind the vents could control how aggressively that air was blown.

Colleen was intimately aware of one undeniable fact. Scared, intimidated, and physically uncomfortable people lied less convincingly. This is why the room had been constructed with such care to featureless detail. This was an art as much as a science. A skilled interrogator had to know when to reward truth with environmental relief and when to punish lies with further unease.

Today, she had ordered the ambient temperature be dropped to 65 degrees with further instructions to lower it slowly still. Incrementally, over a period of 10 minutes after Jody was seated the temperature was dropped an additional 5 degrees. Colleen had made it clear that she wanted to see physical discomfort before entering the room. Jody sat nearly still for twelve minutes as Colleen and the others watched from behind the glass. Then she shifted slightly in the seat. Moments later she shifted again and began to fight with her hands. They watched as she surveyed the room taking in the bleak surroundings.

Colleen smiled slightly and picked up the folder that sat in front of her. It contained high gloss images of Jim Longworth's crime scene. Images of his inert form laying lifeless in a pool of slowly congealing blood. There were images of her home and of the various bottles and cans strewn about. Images of the pizza boxes and the beer soaked picture album. Even pictures of ripped photos. Some of Ray. Some of Jeff.

That last, the torn images of Jeff was Jennifer's idea. After dropping Jody off at the interview room she ran to find Daniel who was making his way back to work with Mr. MacLoed. It took Daniel only a couple of minutes to pull images from the digital cameras they had used in their evidence collection. It took even less time with Photoshop to make the effect she wanted. A shadow of Colleen had noticed when Jennifer had winked at Marshal Givins and at his subtle nod back before she explained its purpose.

"OK, take these in with you. Save them until your done recapping the facts." Jennifer had instructed. "Ask whatever you want as lead up to the party. Then show her the scene at her home. At some point pull out the images of Ray and signal us with a right palm to your face. Watch her reaction closely. Then, take out these and casually set them aside as you pull out some paperwork. Then I'll come get you and we can watch from the observation room."

"What is the significants?" Colleen asked.

Jennifer smiled slyly and made a slight gesture towards Marshal Givins. "Well, we might have let it slip that someone tore up the images of the her grandson."

"I see." Colleen nodded her appreciation. "And you think she is not going to be happy with whomever did that."

Jennifer shook her head slowly. "No. She's gonna go rage monster at whomever she thinks did that."

"Then we ain't gonna get her to shut up." Raylan concluded.

Folder in hand Colleen entered the room. She knew the subtle prearranged signals the control tech would be watching for as she carefully choreographed the rooms environment during the interview. For now, the room felt right. Crisp, cold, and silent. She stood behind Jody assessing the back of the woman noting the erect posture and her new found stillness. Good. She was nervous. Time to begin.

* * *

Art's cell phone rang softly as they watched Colleen enter the room. He glanced down at the display and saw it was Joe's number just as Raylan chastised him. "Your supposed to set that on vibrate before comin' in here."

Art was annoyed. He just wasn't sure if it was at Raylan or himself. "I gotta take this." He said and quickly exited the room.

"Joe, I gotta be quick. Are you there yet?" Art said as he answered the phone.

"Yeah, I just got here." Joe said sounding nervous. "The place is a real mess. Someone was methodical. Searching for something and it wasn't money 'cause there is a wad of twenties crumpled on the floor. Camera equipment all broken and scattered everywhere." Joe picked up a broken SLR and looked for it's memory card. Then he took a longer look around. Cameras, jackets of various size and style, bags, backpacks, maps, travel books, technical manuals, binoculars, rain gear, and various hunting and camping supplies were strewn throughout. "Art, this place is a standard travel house. She knew this guy was gonna be here for a while, right? Why else stay here instead of a hotel."

"Yep. Thats right. She requested it indefinitely." Art responded.

Joe looked in each room seeing more of the same. "This isn't a coincidence. She hasn't had time to establish herself here. That means she wasn't sure she was really staying. That doesn't leave a lot of time to make enemies." Joe took another tour through the various items in each room. "She wasn't a heavy drinker. Nothing that looks like she was a drug user. No gambling books or bookie notes. This feels like someone was looking for something very specific if you know what I mean. "

A chill ran up Art's spine. "Well, I guess you better look for it." Art said fearing the worst. He knew Joe would understand what exactly 'it' was. His fear was that whomever killed Le Carne had also met his Watcher. That, as Joe was aware, could be problematic.

Joe sighed audibly. "Yeah, well if she doesn't have it on her then its here somewhere."

"Ok, well we know she is pretty young still. Not like us old grizzly veterans. That means she probably still follows protocol." Art surmised.

Watchers had a very strict protocol concerning their chronicles. There were to be hidden at all times unless actively recording an event. Young Watchers were drilled into how to hide the Chronicles and where to leave clues to where it was hidden for other Watches to find. If a Watcher died suddenly they did not want the Chonicle being lost or worse being read by those others. The protocol changed over time to adapt to new times. New and sometimes elaborate methods of concealment called for a complex yet consistent treasure map for the others to follow. However, considering that condition the apartment was in, that task was going to be harder still.

"Yeah. Gimme a sec." Joe replied as he located the kitchen table. He stooped down and looked at the underside. A small 'x' was etched in the leg nearest the refrigerator. He stood and looked moved to the nearest window to the table. Another 'x' marking, in pencil, was drawn in the upper right corner. He walked over and stood in with his back pressed against the front of the fridge and looked right. A small broom closet. He opened the door and and inspected the upper and lower hinges. Both had the middle screw missing. He turned and searched the drawers and floor until he found two aluminum chop six. He gently inserted one each into the missing screw hole and with great care and even preasuere pushed them both simultaneously until he heard a click. A small section of the door jam extended slightly. The seems were so fine that he doubted anyone would ever notice them. He took it gently and pulled it open. There tucked into a formed foam drawer sat a standard Watcher Chronical and a small container holding 4 USB memory cards.

"Got it." Joe said as pocketed the USB drives and tucked the Chronicle in his belt at the small of his back.

Art's spicy sense started tingling. "Be careful." he warned. "I'd bet a shiny silver dollar that place is being watched."

"Well, if they have a camera in here, were burned. If they are just watching from outside. We got a chance." Joe said slowly.

"Just be careful. I can always call the cops but no telling how log it'll take 'em to get there." Art cautioned again.

Joe went back to the living room and made a show of being upset. As he did he covertly surveyed his surroundings both inside and out. Thats when he spotted the car. "Yeah, blue sedan. About five houses down the block. One driver. I might be able to get a better look from the bedroom." Joe made his way across the debris strewn floor to the bedroom and peered from the corner of the blinds. "Cant get a good look."

"Hello" can a voice from the living room startling Joe. He made limped his way back there to see a smiling man standing just inside the door way. A badge was clipped to his belt. "Hi, Detective Foster from the FDLE. Everything OK?" has asked.

Art heard the exchange and a bell went off in his head. Foster. That was one of the Detectives working the case. "Where is Detective Foster?" he asked a passing FDLE officer.

The man shrugged. "I think I saw him by the coffee." He replied and kept waling. Art altered course towards the break room.

"Hi" Joe said. "I havn't called the police yet. How'd you know we've been burgled?"

"I think someone heard some noises and called." The Detective said before abruptly changing gears. "Do you live here alone or with someone?"

Joe had to think quickly. Whatever he said Art and Jack could help smooth over. He had an split seconds thought about making it hard for Jack and then dismissed. No better to make it easy. "Uh, no I don't live here. I'm the landlord. Just renting this place to my niece. Listen, can I get a copy of the report for the insurance?" Joe pointed to the busted front door jam. "Thats gonna cost me an arm and a leg." The man instinctively looked down at Joe's lower limbs.

A thin man occupied the doorway. Art could see that no one else was inside. "You seen Detective Foster?" Art asked. The man looked around the room and then pointed to a group of cubicles far across the open room. "Over there, against the wall. Third cube from the end." Art made a bee line towards the man.

Game, Set, Match. Works every time. Joe let his face go angry and spat, "Yeah, go ahead and get a good look. Go on and make that joke your just dying to say?"

The Detective merely smiled completely unfazed. "So you notice anything missing?"

"Yeah. Decorum. Listen you can mail me the report. I got some place to be." Joe said letting malice drip with every word as he pushed past the The detective and slowly moved toward his car.

Art reached the man and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Are you Detective Foster?"

The real Detective Foster turned to look at him. "Yes sir, what do you need?"

"Are you the only Foster at the FDLE?" he asked hurriedly.

"Far as I know. Certainly the only one in Miami." Foster replied.

"Oh, ok. Well I musta heard wrong. Sorry to bother you." Art apologized as he made his way back across the room. "That ain't Detective Foster." He told Joe. "I just talked to Foster. That ain't him."

Joe made an effort to hurry without looking like he was in too much of a hurry. As he closed the door to his car the Detective approached his car window. "Didn't catch your name. I'll need it for the report." The fake detective said casually.

"Joe Davis." Joe said without hesitation. "Be sure to send that report. Otherwise, they won't pay me back for the door." He reminded the man and then drove away as the man in the blue sedan looked on.

"If that wasn't Detective Foster, who was it?" Joe asked Art then gave him a full description.

Art was a bit stunned. He turned to look at the image of a smiling image of James Longworth on the central crime board. "Joe, I think you just met Longworth.

* * *

In addition to the environmental system the control room boasted a host of specialized equipment. A computer system gathered information from several audio and video sensors to help the techs communicate possible lies and the general comfort level of the suspect. Heat sensing cameras and audio stress analyzers were coupled with a systems designed to monitor retinal dilation and facial muscle movement. A tech could interpret the data and communicate it, one way, to a tiny in ear receiver the interrogator wore. To communicate back to the control room detectives used a series of codes disguised as normal movement. Other times, they would be more overt and talk into the microphone. It was all quite complex and existed in order to give the detective a leg up in knowing when a suspect was either lying outright or hiding something. Often times this communication between tech and detective was responsible for confessions for crimes the suspect was and was not being investigated for.

Today, the tech running the system was the absolute best at the job. Jennifer had seen to that. Also on hand was the second best tech. Merely there to offer any assistance and /or opinion. She wanted every advantage for the interview. As she watched Jody's body language intently she spoke gently in Colleens ear.

Colleen began with the images of Jim Longworth's body. Jody looked at the images briefly but showed no outward indication of heightened stress. Her eyes seemingly followed the folder.

"Picture group one had no effect. But, I want to see if she is concerned about the folder. Set it to your right for a minute." Jennifer counseled.

A few moments later Colleen moved the folder from directly in front of her off to the right somewhat as she spoke. "You know what I think? I think you were so angry that another man was going to replace your son as Jeff's father and Callie's husband that you had to kill him to make sure that didn't happen. Right?"

"Well, I guess we are going for the direct approach today." Jennifer said for everyone in the control room to hear.

"It ain't all that bad an approach." Raylan said casually.

Jennifer smiled and thought 'Yeah, when you can't shoot them, accuse them.' It wasn't all that different from Jim's approach. He had been masterful at the interview process. Often he refused to employee the control rooms resources and sometimes asked only two or three questions. Highly unorthodox at a time where normal interview could last hours. Making the suspect uncomfortable and putting them through the rigors of angular fact checking were both physically and mentally fatiguing. That, studies had shown, was what made it possible to detect parts of a story that were false. It allowed the good guys to trip up the bad guys. Truth was simple to recall and communicate. Lies however, they were all about creativity. Ask the right questions an you could catch either the gaps or the filler. But first, you needed them to start talking.

One of the techs pointed out that her eye movements were definitely in the direction of the folder.

"Does that sound about right Jody? I guess I can understand it. I have a lovely daughter. Getting married next month. If someone hurts her… I'd want them to pay for it."

"She has a daughter?" Raylan asked.

"No." Jennifer replied as she looked over the scrolling data on the screens in front of her. She keyed the microphone that allowed her to speak to Colleen. "Nothing yet. No spikes but her eyes are darting to your right. Try moving the folder."

Colleen retrieved the folder and opened it at such and angle that it was almost possible for Jody to see the contents. She took out the field notes from the first crime scene and then placed the folder to her right. Correspondingly, the heat sensors showed a probable spike in heart rate. Her facial muscles twitched and her eyes followed the folders path.

Jennifer keyed the mic again. "Oh yeah, the folder is definitely causing her heightened anxiety." Jennifer told Colleen. "Keep using it."

The control room door opened and Art moved into the room as silently as he could. Jennifer heard him whisper, "What did I miss?" to Raylan. The cowboy must not have answered audibly because the room remained silent. They all watched as Colleen seemingly read over a portions the field notes pausing on the page labeled 'Fingerprint Analysis'. Jennifer knew that the only prints they had pulled from the scene were the former owner, now living in Bocca Ratan, the Realtor, and Jim's. The Realtor and former owner had already been eliminated as real suspects though technically the Realtor was still on the 'Unlikely but still possible' list in her mind.

"Hmmm, did you ever go to the house Jim bought for Jeff, he and Callie to live in?" Colleen asked. Jody, for her part sat silently, showing absolutely nothing to Colleen.

Art spoke from the back of the room. "The was smart, listing the boy next to Longworth. Any reaction?"

Jennifer had been looking for the same thing. "Maybe. Just some twitchy muscles. She sure didn't love the idea. But, it wasn't all that strong either."

"Do you own a gun, Jody?" Colleen asked as she again carefully extracted another report form the folder. "I can see that you registered a 9mm Springfield in 2009. Which Is odd because we didn't find it in your house."

Jennifer didn't need the computer equipment to tell her that news had caught Jody off guard. Her posture became more erect her eyes widened and, if the heat camera was any indication, her pulse rate was still climbing.

"I didn't know she had a gun." Art said

"They ran a check when she was brought in. Colleen called to the scene and they confirmed that it wasn't there. At least not anywhere obvious." Jennifer replied.

"Push her on where she kept it. She'll answer that." Raylan said. Jennifer considered him for a moment and then keyed the mic and asked Colleen to push it.

"I know you still have it somewhere Jody. The thing is, Jim was killed with a 9mm." Colleen paused and when she spoke again her voice was softer. "Where do you keep it Jody? Maybe we just haven't looked in the right place." Jody seemed to consider this for a long moment. She opened her mouth to speak but then thought better of it and shook her head slightly.

"If we can find the gun then we can eliminate it as the murder weapon." Colleen said and then made her voice stern again. "If you didn't kill Jim, what do you have to loose in telling us where it is?"

Jody's head dropped and she shivered a bit. "My nightstand. Bottom drawer." She said almost too quiet for Colleen to her.

As Colleen spoke, Jennifer's thumbs flew over her texting app as she quickly asked one of the on scene investigators to search again for the gun in nightstand. 'Def no gun there, want pics?' came the near immediate reply. Jennifer nodded as she answered, 'YES!'.

"Can we get someone to double-check the bottom drawer of her nightstand?" Colleen said loudly as she lifted her head towards the mic hanging from the ceiling. She then looked into Jody's eyes. "They will check again, but I have to tell you that we have already thoroughly checked your bedroom." Colleen opened the folder again and pulled three images from it and then setting it aside to her right. As expected jody watched the folders journey intently.

Colleen placed the images in a line in front of Jody. The first was a shot from Jody's kitchen looking into the main room. Bottles and cans were strewn about and tiny yellow plastic evidence markers sat next to them. The second image was of the patio and the heaping mound of beer cans covering a barely distinguishable photo album. The third showed the pizza boxes placed side by side on the driveway next to the trash bin. They could all see the momentary frustration and then shame pass over her as she looked down at the photos.

Jennifer phone buzzed with two images, one for each drawer. "Ok, definitely no gun in the nightstand. I have pics if you need them." She told Colleen over their private connection and received the signal that told her Colleen had heard and understood.

"Wow, that is a lot of beer and wine." Colleen said as she played at really studying the images. "Hmmm, You didn't strike me as a cheap gin drinker." She said appraisingly. "I mean look at all this. We figure it was a two or three day celebration!" Colleen paused to look up at Jody's stoic expression. " Still, the cheap gin?"

Jody sat motionless. In the control room they noted her lack of movement as severe apprehension. Colleen smiled again and picked up the image of the kitchen to inspect it closer.

Again Jennifer spoke to the control room alone. "She's clearly more in control of herself than we thought she would be at this point. Why isn't she screaming for a lawyer?"

Raylan's answer of, "She wants to see the pictures." and Art's reply of "She's waitin' to see what we got." were delivered on top of one another.

Jennifer nodded her head in agreement and then spoke to Colleen. "Hit her with the lipstick."

Colleen sat back in her chair and looked appraisingly at Jody. "The gin had us all scratching our heads. Until, we noticed the lipstick." Colleen paused a brief second as her finger found and tapped an gin bottle in the picture. "Your's is red. Its on several wine glasses and a few tumblers. The one on the gin is pinkish. That color is also on a several of the beer cans." Colleen tossed the image very lightly across the table so that it came to a rest just in front of Jody. "The oddest thing though. We didn't find this shade anywhere in your… extensive makeup collect." Colleen paused for a moment to let the implication fully sink in. "So, who else was there?"

Jody shifted and reflexively shook her head in hope of resetting her hair. Apart from the corresponding facial muscle movements and a slight shiver, she was unaffected.

"OK, lets throw it all out there." Jennifer counseled.

Colleen's expression became one of cold amusement. "It must have been one hell of a party. You and a couple of your co-conspirators cutting loose after it was all done. You drank yourselves silly, right? Then you all took stock of what made you do it." Colleen pulled a stack of photos from the folder and sat them in from of her. The top one showed a smashed and broken frame. In it was a happy teen Ray and his smiling mother. "Your son. Not much better than his father really. Until he couldn't hack it inside and turned snitch. We know he is never coming back, right? Hasn't spoken to you, his own mother, since being taken into protective custody." She tossed the top image lightly across the table towards Jody revealing the one below it, now on top. The edges of the remaining images visible beneath.

Jody'd heart rate climbed. She involuntarily licked her lips and blinked several times. Her eyes locking not on the image just tossed in front of her but to the stack still held close to Colleen.

"No two ways about it…" Colleen began, fingers gripping the edge of the next picture. Jody's eyes not even tracking the image as it moved across the table towards her. "That man is a disappointment. I get that."

Three photos left in the stack. Colleen's finger gripped the edge of the topmost. This one, a zoomed in version of the beer sodden photo album showing several ruined photos on one page.

"Wait!" Jennifer called in Colleen's ear. "Givin's is going to knock on the door and then I want you to leave the last photo on your side of the table and get up to answer it. Lets give her a moments perceived privacy to react." At the end of her statement Raylan left the room.

"Nice touch." Art said approvingly.

Jennifer smiled self-assuredly. "Ten bucks says she cry's like a baby."

"Only a fool would take that bet. But, I'd lay ten on it being from the right eye first." Art said with a smile of his own.

The hereto silent tech joined in. "Nope, its definitely gonna start on the left."

"Your both wrong." Jennifer said firmly. "Both at the same time."

Art leaned closer to the screen showing a very zoomed in shot Jody's face. "Looks like we got a bet."

Colleen slid the top image across the table at last and then touched her right hand to her right ear in recognition and acceptance of the plan Jennifer had suggested. From across interview room Jennifer could see Raylan's face watching through the small window in the door. One image to go.

"The thing that has us all stumped is this last one." Colleen said. As she lifted the image a knock sounded at the door. Jody jumped in her seat, startled. Colleen looked unfazed. "I'm sorry, give me just a second." As she stood she slid the image she was holding off to the right finally revealing what appeared to be a collection of ripped and crumpled images. All showed Jeff at various ages. Jody's eyes lock on the image as Colleen made her way to the door.

Two things happened simultaneously. Someone knocked on the control room door and Jody began to leak tears. From her left eye first.

"Well, shit." Art said under his breath. And moved to answer the door.

The tech smiled and nodded "Oh yeah!"

Colleen stood at the door of the interview room and spoke in very whispered inaudible tones to Raylan. Then Raylan left and she shut the door quietly. She stood watching Jody for a few moments before speaking. "We have all the fingerprint and DNA evidence we need to figure out who was there. It's just a matter of time. Time is the problem Jody. It might take a day or two to get the prints pulled and processed." Colleen said as she walked back to her seat. "We need to know who was there so we can stop anything else from happening."

At those words Jody shook and cried harder. Jennifer knew Colleen would be content with giving her several minutes to do just that.

Art closed the door and quickly moved to Jennifer's side. "We got a problem, apparently Callie Cargil is here demanding to see Colleen. They say she's really pissed."

Jennifer turned an 'are you serious?' look towards Art. Then, seeing he was, she swore audibly. "Shit!" Then she thought for a moment and swore again. "She knows we have Jody." To this Art nodded. She swore again and keyed the mic to Colleen. "Huge problem. Callie Cargil is here. She knows we have Jody and she is demanding to speak to you. Colleen, apparently, she is really pissed."

Colleen straightened, then stood, and finally nodded. "Jody, please think about telling me who else was there. I have to go take care of something. I'll be right back." She said in a soft voice. She almost made it to the door.

As Jody spoke Raylan came back into the control room. Art waived away whatever he was about to say and pointed to the image of Jody on the screen in front of them. "It was Dianne, Rich, and then later Fernando and some other guy I've never met before." Jody said in sobs.

Colleen froze, one hand on the door. "Do you know last names?" she said as she turned and made her way back to the table. Jody started crying harder.

"Callie Cargil is here and she's yelling up a storm out there. Wants to see Colleen." Raylan reported.

"Shit! Someone needs to go talk to her." Jennifer said as she turned and looked directly at Art. "It can't be me and it can't be him." She said as she pointed to Raylan.

Art nodded slowly. "Nothing happened?" he asked as his eyes bored through her looking for the truth.

"Nothing. But, it could have. That's all she'll focus on." Jennifer responded. She had wanted it to happen. Wanted it more than she cared to let anyone else know. She had loved Jim Longworth. Really loved him. Callie would be able to see that and it wouldn't be fair.

Art continued to lock eyes with her. "Then your gonna have to handle Colleen when she finds out I'm speaking with Callie. 'Cause she aint gonna like it and I'm already skatin' on thin ice here."

Jennifer nodded. "I can handle Colleen." Colleen would be unhappy. Very unhappy. But what real choice did they have? Givins was the wrong choice for a dozen reasons. So was Carlos. She couldn't do it and who knew how long Colleen would be in there with Jody. It had to be Art. There was no other choice to make.

Art looked skeptical but continued anyway, "The best way to do this is for me to be honest with her. That means sharing some of the information we have thus far and admitting what we don't have." Art paused for a split second, "You still want me to go?"

Jennifer swallowed hard and then nodded. "Yes. I trust you."

"Yeah, but will she?" Raylan said nodding his head to indicate Colleen visible through the glass as she waited for jody to calm herself. None of them spoke for a long moment.

"Raylan… I'm gonna need your badge." Art said as he wiped a hand down his face. "And, you probably need to make that deputizing thing real."

Jennifer was momentarily taken aback as she saw Givins nod once and then simultaneously take out his phone and hand Art his badge. She looked incredulously at Art as he clipped the badge on his belt. "Real?" she said looking back at Givins as he dialed. Hadn't they done that days ago?

In response Raylan spoke into his phone, "Dan. I think we better deputize Art."

* * *

When Art exited the control room he became a different man. If he had the time to ponder how quickly he fell back into this 'Man in Charge' role he would have been shocked. Those that had seen him walking the halls before would have instantly noticed the difference. His walk was different. His demeanor had changed. His eyes were sharper and a small hint of a scowl was promised in every look he gave.

As he walked, he could hear the commotion growing louder. Oh, she was definitely pissed alright. But it was far too loud to be coming from the reception area. As he came closer he could tell it was coming from the main area by the crime boards. Why the hell had they let her in there?

As he rounded the corner he took in the scene. Callie was surrounded by three men, all FDLE detectives who were trying to calm her down. None were making any headway. Another woman stood close by caught somewhere between shocked uncertainty and supportive rage. He needed to get her attention. He needed to take her off guard and get her to talk to him. Talk, not scream.

Art put every once of authority he had ever possessed into his voice as he raised it enough to be easily overheard. "Mrs. Longworth!"

Callie stopped mid syllable and turned her attention to him tears instantly welled in her eyes. "What did you say?"

"I said, 'Mrs Longworth'. Thats your name, right." Art said confidently as he walked closer. He abruptly stopped and pointed to the crime board. On the far right of the first board was a list of names under the heading 'victims'. The second name, just under Jim Longworth, written in green marker, was the name Callie Longworth. "Because that is the name we all use for you. It's your name. We are all here working to find the justice for Jim and for you." Art's professional annunciation came back as well. His "g's" were more often pronounced and his gait of speech had quickened slightly. To Callie, it was transparent. To anyone that had known him up until now, it was a huge difference.

Callie just stared at the board unspeaking.

Art let her look for a moment and then continued. "Now, if you and I can walk into that conference room I can tell you what we are doing and how the investigation is progressing." Art said firmly. Then more softly, "Lets let these people get back to doing the most important job of their lives. They have a lot to do and we have a lot to cover."

A stunned Callie refocused on Art. "Who are you? Where is Colleen?"

"I'm Chief Deputy Marshal Art Mullen." Art replied. The slip in title not even registering with him. After all, with all his being, he was the Chief Deputy persona again. "Director Manus is interviewing a suspect at the moment. She may join us later. IN the mean time, I'll be happy to discuss more of this with you but I need you to come to that conference room with me."

Callie's eyes searched and found the silver star clipped to Art's belt. Then she nodded and began walking towards the conference room Art had indicated. The woman by her side followed. Art frowned slightly and addressed the dark haired woman. "I'm sorry Miss…?"

"Dr."The woman corrected him curtly. "Dr. Buckley"

"Ok, Dr. Buckley, I'm afraid you'll have to wait up front." Art said firmly.

"No! She comes with me." Callie demanded.

Art turned his boss man gaze on Callie. "No ma'am. I'm breaking about 50 rules just talking to you. If Jim hadn't been the man he was I'd tell you to go straight home and let us handle it. If you want to peak behind the curtain, its by my rules."

Every eye in the place was on him. A single word by any of the detectives around her about his being an insurance investigator and the whole thing would blow up. Fortunately, when Art projected this side of himself, they seemed as convinced of his title as she was.

Callie narrowed her eyes. "Fine, but she can wait here. Not up front."

This time Art let his frustration show. He looked back towards Dr. Buckley and caught the familiar face of Detective Foster, "Foster, find her a place to sit that's out of the way." He barked. And then turned his back and headed to the conference room. He was relieved to hear Foster say "Ma'am, this way please."

Art lead Callie into the empty room and shut the door. "Please, have a seat. If at any time you want something to drink, please let me know and I'll have someone fetch something."

Callie barely waited for him to finish. "Why has Jody been arrested and why is there an army of people tearing her house apart?"

Art nodded and sat in a chair in the middle of the table. Callie crossed her arms and remained standing.

"Mrs. Longworth.." Art began.

She interrupted him instantly, but softly. "Callie"

Art paused and then continued, "OK, Callie, Jody Cargil has been arrested because we aren't sure whats going on with her yet. When…" Art paused just before blurting out 'Bureau Chief Starke', "another investigator and I went to interview her at her home we found her obviously drunk and what looked like the remains of a frat party."

"What? What do you mean a Frat party?" Callie asked cautiously.

Art cocked his head and decided to take an oblique approach. "How does Jody usually keep house?"

"What do you mean?" Callie asked. Clearly unsure where this was going.

"I mean, was she a slob? Leaving wine and gin bottles all over the place? Beer cans piled up, that sort of thing?" Art quizzed.

"Jody? Hell no! She's always been very particular. No food in the living room and the take your shoes off at the door type." Callie said finally sitting down.

Art nodded again. "Yeah, thats what we figured." He let out a sigh and continued. "When we got there the kitchen, living room, and patio were covered in beer cans, wine bottles, and such."

Again Callie interrupted. "You said gin bottles."

"Yep, those too. Pictures frames broken and smashed. A photo album destroyed. Wine stains on the carpet. It was a mess." Art relayed. As he talked he noted how Callie looked a bit distant.

"Did she do it?" Callie asked hesitantly.

"No, I don't think she did. But, I think she thinks she knows who did." Art confessed.

The anger flashed so quick Art could barely believe it. "Ray. She thinks Ray did it!" Callie fumed.

"Maybe." Art reasoned. "But it doesn't seem like she is all that protective of Ray anymore. At first I though maybe Ray was at the party. But.."

Callie broke in again, "All the broken frames and albums had Ray in them.", she finished.

Art was a little amazed that she had put that together so quick. He decided to wait until she continued.

"It wasn't a party. She was writing Ray off." Callie explained. "The last time she got that drunk it was to write off Guthrie, Ray's father. He was in and out of prison all of Ray's life. She always managed to turn a blind eye to it. Until he had Ray help him run a few shipments of whatever up from the Keys. When Jody found out, she turned Guthrie in. Ray never knew that, but she told me a few years ago. We were Juniors in High School at the time. We just thought he did something stupid and got caught." Callie paused in remembrance. "She got so drunk! She couldn't even walk and she barely ate. She wasn't sober for about a week and she never spoke to Guthrie again. He died a year later in a prison yard fight."

"I didn't know she had turned Guthrie in." Art said and then decided to take a gamble. "Did she tell you about Guthrie because she suspected that you turned Ray in?"

Callie looked shocked."How did you know that?"

"Just a hunch." Art replied. "Were you concerned that your son might follow in the steps of his father?"

"No. Well, not really. Ray knew what he was doing wasn't right and he didn't want Jeff going down that path. He struggled… We both struggled to keep the real truth of Ray's criminal activity as secret as possible. We lied to him about why Ray was sent to prison. When Jeff found out the truth he was so mad at us." She said as part of the pain of that time leaked through in her voice.

"The thing is," Callie said suddenly, "She never drinks gin. Wine, definitely. Sometimes vodka and juice with a little grenadine maybe. But I've never seen her drink gin and definitely never beer. She hates beer."

Art nodded. "We suspect that there were others there."

A look of pure malice took over Callie's face as her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward in her chair. "Was it shitty gin? The $2 a gallon kind of shitty gin?"

Art's eyes went wide. Well shit, he didn't see this coming when they walked in here. They were about to get double confirmation of who was at Jody's house. "Yes. It was the shittiest gin ever made." Art confirmed.


	7. Chapter 7 - Searching

Duncan sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He and Daniel had identified sixteen features on the blade and nine on the hilt. This was more than enough to confirm what he already knew. This was the same sword that he had donated those many years ago.

"Well, it's the same sword. Definitively." Duncan said sadly.

"I wonder how long it has been gone. Surely they would have taken inventory at least once since they took it off display." Daniel said exasperatedly.

"We will know for certain when the Museum staff has reviewed the records." Duncan replied sagely. "They have already contacted the Police and Interpol. I'm sure they will let us know as quickly as they can."

"Duncan, how are you so calm about this?" Daniel asked. "I mean, most people would be yelling at the Museum curator and threatening to sue. You were very calm and polite. I don't get it."

Duncan smiled. 'I have had centuries to learn to control my feelings' he thought. Instead he said, "Well Daniel, through contemplating the Zen of…"

Duncan was cut off mid-thought by the sounds of a very angry woman yelling. The yelling became louder and closer. Daniel shot out of his seat looking terrified. Duncan stood, unsure what the commotion was about and followed Daniel to the conference room glass. Through it he could see a diminutive angry woman yelling at the various detectives as they tried in vain to calm her.

"Oh no!." Daniel muttered. "That's not good."

"Who is that?" Duncan asked.

"Callie. Jim's finance'." Daniel replied.

Duncan noticed that Daniel had his hand on the conference room door handle. Yet, he was not making a move towards opening it. He just stood motionless and eyed the scene. Indecision pulsed from him.

"Shouldn't you go and talk to her?" Duncan prodded. The shiver that passed through Daniel was clear and unmistakable. He would not be forging into that chaos today.

"I should go and get Carlos." Daniel replied after a few minutes. "He would know what to do. Or maybe Director Manus."

"I believe you said that she was interviewing a suspect." Duncan remembered.

"Yeah, Jody Cargil." Daniel said absently.

Duncan immediately glanced towards the crime board and found the names Jody and Ray Cargil. He searched more and found Callie's name under the Victims heading. Of course, he thought. She was listed as Longworth on the board and Cargil on the address sheet he saw earlier. Either Ray or Jody must be the ex-husband.

"She seems pretty angry that he was arrested." Duncan ventured.

Daniel seemed to come back to his immediate surroundings. "Huh? Who was arrested?" he asked looking confused.

"Jody Cargil. She keeps yelling about him being arrested today." Duncan offered.

"Oh, yeah. She was. Uh… I better go get Carlos." He said and quietly exited the room. The attractive brunette friend of Callie's seemed the only one to notice him as he scurried off in the opposite direction.

So, Jody was female. She must be the mother-in-law. Ray must be the ex-husband. As he contemplated how to get additional information he noticed Art Mullen walk up. The man had changed. Duncan could see the authority in his walk, his demeanor. The U.S Marshal star at his waist was also new. Duncan slipped out of the conference room quietly in order to hear better. Perhaps he could use the distraction to get a better look at some of the material surrounding the main crime boards.

As Art spoke Duncan casually strolled to one of the cubicles across from the conference room. He glanced down at the papers that law open next to the computer keyboard. A report on a body found in Oregon. He quickly scanned the pages knowing he was committing most of it to memory. A memory that seldom failed him. Seldom failed any immortal. Another portion of his mind tracked what was unfolding around him. All eyes were on Art and Callie. He might as well have been a ghost as he moved to another cubical and opened another folder there quickly scanning its contents.

Bingo! A police report on Sean Holcombe. Apparently he was already the subject of a local investigation. He was linked to a raided warehouse containing rare paintings, jewelry, and statues. Some of which had been reported stolen. Reading more intently he stopped dead on a the name of Holcombe's sometimes girlfriend. Amanda Cooper. Duncan reached for a yellow sticky note and quickly wrote 'Have Texarkana PD send info on all items in the warehouse' on it and then affixed it to the front of the folder. He would ask Joe to get him the information later. In the anonymity of a group effort he knew no-one would ever ask who had scrawled the note.

He glanced up just in time to see Art leading Callie to a conference room and the tall Detective Foster leading Dr. Buckley to a chair next to a cubicle with that looked vacant at least for the day. No doubt the occupant was out in the field. The other Detectives eagerly moved back to their workstations and tried to quickly put the attention zapping situation behind them. Duncan removed his 'Visitor' lanyard and placed it in his pocket as he slowly approached the cubicle where Dr. Buckley sat. He pulled out the seat and casually glanced around. Nobody even looked his way.

"Dr. Buckley" he said around a warm smile. "The Marshal can be… abrasive. I would like to apologize for his rudeness."

She smiled absently. "Well, you are all under a lot of pressure. Detective?"

Duncan smiled broadly, "Please, just call me Duncan." He knew that approaching her in the right setting would cause her to conclude he was another Detective working the case. It would be easier to get her to talk to him if she assumed he had an official capacity. "Would you care for some tea?"

This time the smile was more genuine. "Yes, I would."

"Great, I know this wonderful little refreshment station. The tea is generally hot though the selection is limited." He joked and was pleased to hear a small chuckle. She rose and he lead her across the room to a small alcove containing two photocopiers and Keurig machine.

He scanned the available tea selection and pulled two small round containers from their stylish holder. "I suggest the peppermint. It helps relieve stress and calms the nerves." Duncan said genially.

She smiled appreciatively, "Well, I can certainly use both of those. It's been a day from hell. Several actually." She paused for a moment and Duncan could see a wellspring of sadness deep within her. He let her have the moments reflection. A tear rolled down her face as she continued. "I thought I was coming to celebrate the happiest day of her life. Instead… this. She doesn't deserve this. He didn't deserve this."

"Often, it is only through the strength of friends and family that we find a path through pain and loss. Your compassion and friendship will be both her pillar of support and a beacon to lead her through this tragedy." Duncan counseled as she held his gaze. "It will take a toll on you as well. Take the time to grieve privately. Grieve for her loss, his loss, and your own."

"My loss?" she asked uncertainly.

"She will never fully be the person she was before this. She will clutch at the cynicism of life and fight to keep the pain of her loss fresh. That pain will be her only tangible link to him. It will be your job, if you chose it, to help her slowly move past it. To free herself from its grip. Eventually, with help and love, she will learn to open herself to happiness again. But it will take time." Duncan told her. She drank in every word with her eyes locked on his. She spent a few moments just looking at him. Perhaps, into him before shaking herself slightly.

"I imagine in your work you see this sort of thing a lot." She offered.

Duncan turned to retrieve the first cup of tea. "Sometimes. Though, this is a special case." He held the cup in both hands as he continued. "Everyone here, we are all dedicated to finding out what happened. Who did this and why. I assure you, some measure of justice will be exacted."

"Some measure?" she questioned.

"No measure of Justice can ever truly be enough. Nothing can set things back the way they were. Though, we will certainly ensure our measure of justice is swift and severe." He responded matter of factly. Again, her eyes probed for a sign of hesitation or disbelief. Finding none, she seemed somewhat satisfied by his answer.

He let the silence stand for a few moments before visibly lightening the mood. "Sugar?" he said and motioned towards a glass jar containing sure cubes.

She smiled slightly. "Yes, just one."

As Duncan stirred the sugar cube into the the tea he continued in what he approximated was the casual yet professional tone of an investigator. "So, aside from the arrest of Jody Cargil, what brings you two in today?"

Over the next several minutes Dr. Buckley recounted the story of Rich and Dianne as told to her by Callie. She told him of their shock upon arriving at Jody's home and seeing the various investigators and crime scene analysts. She told of Callie's fear that Jody had also been killed and of her anger at learning of the arrest. She concentrated on the emotional turmoil of her friend and of the various speculations they had discussed on the drive to the FDLE station. As she finished Duncan was already making a second cup of tea for them both.

He checked his watch. They had been chatting for quite a while. Daniel must be back by now and Callie was probably nearing the end of her talk with Art.

"We should be getting back. I need to finish some work I was doing and I am sure Callie will be finished soon." He said as he handed her the second cup. She took a sip and allowed him to lead her back through the cubical area to the seat she had had occupied. "I am sure we will meet again Dr. Buckley."

"Miranda" she said quickly. "I would like that. Thank you again for your thoughtful words." She was saying as Duncan caught a glimpse of Daniel moving across the room as he and Carlos met Director Manus at the far end of the room. The were talking and looking at the conference room Art had taken Callie into.

"Miranda, it was my pleasure." He said brightly. His phone suddenly vibrated loudly enough for both of them to hear. "Excuse me, I need to take this." He said apologetically while secretly thanking the universe for the well timed distraction.

"Of course." Miranda said as she regained her seat. "Thanks again." She said and sipped her tea.

Duncan bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment and turned away making his way back to the conference room as unobtrusively as possible. He answered the call as he walked. "Hello Joe."

—

Art asked Callie to write down any names and addresses she could remember of friends or family of Rich and Dianne. Also, he asked her to list any places Ray might go for help. Any old hangouts or places he might feel comfortable. Anything they could check out. She studiously writing when he noticed Manus, Raylan, and Jennifer talking along with the Medical Examiner need the crime boards.

"Give me just a minute, I need to jump out there and find out how the interview went." Art told her.

Callie paused in her writing and spoke without emotion. "Ok. Will Jody be released or is she here for a while?"

Art could sense the malice hidden in the emptiness of her tone. Jody had a lot to answer for. Art did not envy her, not one bit. "I'm not sure. It depends on how well her story checks out and how cooperative she is." He answered honestly.

Callie merely nodded and went back to writing. Art stood and left the room with the same presence of command he had before. Manus stopped mid-sentence to stare at him as he approached.

"How about we talk in your office." He stated more than asked. Manus eyed him questioningly and then turned and lead the way to her office. Art could feel Jennifer's eyes on him.

"See that? That's why I didn't Deputize him before. As soon as he puts on the badge a stick magically appears right up his ass." Art heard Raylan mutter to Jennifer as they followed.

As soon as they entered her office Manus turned a sever frown on Art. "I thought I made it clear that you were to be Deputized if you were to remain on the team. Now I find out it just happened today."

"If I had let Raylan Deputize me then, I would have had to recuse myself from investigating the insurance claim for Callie. As it happens, I submitted my findings and recommendations this morning." Art replied in a neutral tone.

"Your speaking differently and your demeanor has changed. Why?" Manus observed.

Art let his frustration show with a frown matching her own. "I don't know what your talking about."

"She's asking why you went from mildly tolerable asshole to a completely intolerable one." Raylan translated helpfully to the room and then turned to point at the badge on Art's hip. "He thinks he's in charge again."

Art continued to look at Manus. "Your in charge. Other than that, Raylan is kinda right. If I'm gonna play at being a Marshal again, this is how I do it."

Manus just continued to eye Art. She needed more convincing.

"It's still your show. We're here to help. Nothing more." Art said sincerely. "If you want me gone, I'll pack up and go. I won't like it, but I'll do it."

Manus seemed to believe him and visibly relaxed a little. "What did you recommend?"

"Full payment of benefits." Art replied quickly. "The company will most likely fly a representative out to tell her. It should happen in a week or two. I don't think she has any idea about the policy. I'm not sure how she's gonna take it."

"At least she won't have to worry financially." Jennifer said quietly. They all seemed to contemplate that for a moment.

Colleen snapped back to the present quickest. "Ok, so Jody says it was a Richard and Dianne Dupree that initially stayed with her as Rich's wound healed. She says they told her he fell while trimming tree branches. She suspected it was either a gunshot or knife wound." Colleen told the group more for Art's benefits as she already knew Jennifer and Raylan had heard since they were monitoring the interview.

"Same story different angle with Callie. She was approached by the Dupree's to stitch up Richard. They told her it was tree branches also. She's a nurse so she knew that was B.S. as soon as she saw the wound. She thinks it was a big knife wound. In fact, when the dumbass didn't take it easy like she told him, she had to bail on lunch with Dr. Buckley over there and take him to the hospital. They had to do some kinda emergency surgery on him. The docs there saw the wound and reported it to the local cops . That's the last she saw of them. I still need to call and get the locals to send us a copy of the report." Art informed them.

"I'll take care of that." Colleen said scribbling a note. "She looked pretty calm in there."

Art sighed, "Well, I'm kinda charming when I wanna be. Right now she is writing down all the names and addresses of folks Rich and Dianne would probably try to get help from. Plus any places they might feel is a safe place to hold up for a couple of weeks."

Colleen seemed to reassess Art for a moment. Art felt the scrutiny and knew she was strongly considering telling him 'thanks, you can go now'. Jennifer seemed to feel it too and decided to chime in.

"Like I said, having Art talk to Callie was the best option. Clearly, it was the right move. She was incensed when she came in. He managed to calm her. Also, if he hadn't discerned so much at Jody's we probably wouldn't have her cooperation right now." Jennifer dropped into one of the chairs in Colleens office and leaned forward putting both forearms on the desk. "I know you see him as an outsider. I get that. But they have both been very helpful so far and…"

Jennifer trailed off as Colleen ceased her speech with a hand. "Ok, for now he can stay." She then turned to look at Art and Raylan. "No more omissions or half truths. I don't care what the justification is."

"Agreed" Art Said.

Colleen look to Raylan and he nodded his assent. "OK. So now we need to find Richard and Dianne Dupree." Colleen stated matter of factly. "I'll go ask Jody to write down places she knew her son or husband would use for a hiding spot. Then we need to break into teams and go hunting."

They all nodded in agreement. "What are you plannin' on doin' with Jody?" Raylan asked.

Colleen seemed to think for a moment. Art decided to offer his opinion. "Callie's pretty pissed at her. It might be better for all if she stays in lockup for a few days."

Colleen looked thoughtful. "I don't have enough to charge her on. We can holder for another 20 hours."

"Dependin' on her phone records, I think I might be able to hold her a damn sight longer." Raylan drawled. They all turned to consider him. "We can classify Ray as a fugitive and if he called her after he dropped WitSec, then we can hold her for aiding and abetting."

The room was quiet as everyone ran their own simulations on how that would go. "We don't have to decide now, but lets keep the option open." Colleen said with finality. As she rose she pointed at Jennifer and Raylan, You two checkout part of Callie's list. I'll send Foster and Gupta to check the other half." She turned to Art, "That leaves you and I on Jody's."

Art nodded. "Ok, I'll go see where Callie is on her list."

—

Raylan leaned casually on a cubical wall as he flipped through the list Colleen had given him. "Eleven addresses, two marinas, eight bars, and twenty odd potential shit-bags." He said as he scanned through several pages of methodically written pages. Under nearly every entry were some brief notes describing the connection to Ray.

"Hell hath no fury.." Foster remarked as he too scanned a copy.

Jennifer smiled, "Especially one with a memory for detail."

"How do you want to split it up boss?" Raylan asked and looked to Jennifer for the answer.

She dropped her page on a desk and started marking things as she talked. "Foster, you and Gupta take these nine potential shit-bags, these 5 addresses, and these five bars. We'll take the rest." She stood and handed them her page so they could check off their assignments. We can't just go in and start waiving around his picture. So, lets approach this more methodically. I'll have dispatch dedicate an operator for each of us. We'll run license plates, take pictures, note surroundings, and talk to the local cops to see if anything seems off the past few days. No direct contact with these people today. Just look, snap pics, and take notes."

Raylan made a serious effort not to check her out. It was't easy. Then he noticed the other two men seemed far too focused on the papers in their hands. At least he wasn't the only one to notice her more feminine attributes.

"What about the bars? Do we go in?" Foster asked.

Jennifer looked amusingly at the man in his grey suit and blue necktie. "Uh, no. Not today, just run plates and take notes. I want to know who is there and see if any have a sheet first."

Raylan had to laugh a little. He knew a few of these bars by reputation. Ok, well, he knew one of them a bit more than just by reputation. A suit was definitely not a good idea. "I know a couple of these. It ain't gonna be an 'if' they got a sheet, its gonna be how long it is."

Jennifer nodded. "I figured. He doesn't seem like the classy upscale beach bar type."

"Well we can…" Raylan was cut off mid-sentence by the sound of his phone ringing. He fished it out of a pocket and frowned as he read saw the caller. Dan calling. Probably wasn't important. He pressed a button shunting them to his voicemail. "Well, we can start by…" Again the phone interrupted his thought. Again he looked at the caller and frowned. It was Dan calling again. "Shit, I better take this." He said as he moved away and answered the call. "Hello Dan."

"Voicemail? You sent me to voicemail?" Dan said irritably.

"Sorry. I'm right in the middle of somethin' here." Raylan said stoically.

"Yeah. So Art tells me you and Bureau Chief Starke are riding off to checkout part of a list. He says that this list could help find Ray. Do you see the problem here?" Dan said in clipped tones.

"Not really. That's what were about to do." Raylan confirmed.

"Yeah. So tell me Raylan, why the hell am I hearing it from a recently deputized retiree instead of the Marshal I put in charge of the investigation? Why is it that the only update I get from that Marshal is a call asking for a rush deputizing, without explanation, and then when I call I get sent to voicemail. Are you starting to get whats wrong here?" Dan said with increasing volume and irritation.

Raylan shook his head in frustration. "I didn't realize I had to check in like I was damn teenager. We're out here looking for Ray and helpin' with the case. Everything is by the book, just like you said."

"Really? Lying to Manus about Art's deputy status is by the book?" Dan asked flatly. When there was no immediate answer he continued. "She is pissed by the way. Yelled at me for ten minutes."

"It was so they didn't have to start the insurance investigation over with someone else. We explained that already." Raylan said in a defensive tone. "What the hell did they want, the benefit delayed? It was the right damn call. She's just pissed cause Art rubs her wrong."

Dan softened his response a little. "Yeah, well that's what Art tells me. Here is the thing Raylan, I want to get updates from the guy in charge of the U.S. Marshal's investigation. The guy I pay. Not the retired sidekick. Either that or I gotta put the sidekick in charge. Get me?"

Now Raylan was angry. He didn't ask for this assignment. He didn't ask for Art to tag along. Hell, he had opposed both. This was complete bullshit. "You gotta be shittin' me. You wanna replace me, fine. Do it. Otherwise, let me do the damned job. I'll update you when there's something to update you on. I ain't gonna call just to tell you what I had for lunch."

"You sound pissed." Dan replied.

"Yeah, I am." Raylan said honestly.

Raylan could here the smile as Dan replied, "Good. Your better when your pissed. Last thing."

"What?" Raylan snapped.

"Art says you're avoiding eye contact with Starke. He's worried your gonna try something stupid. Don't do something stupid. I gotta go, update me once a day whether you like it or not." With that Dan hung up. Raylan stood there looking at the phone in his hand for a long minute.

"Either that was your boss or an ex-wife." Jennifer remarked from a few feet away.

Raylan turned and locked eyes with her. See, damnit, he wasn't avoiding eye contact. "We better save the bars for later. Else I might just drink for a while."

Jennifer smiled, "That doesn't narrow it down for me."

"I like the ex-wife" Raylan said.

Jennifer nodded in understanding. "So, boss then."

" to first?" Raylan asked as he picked up his hat and a thick file folder.

The first three addresses were apartment complexes. The apartments in question all had new occupants and there was no forwarding addresses for the old. The fourth address was in a rough neighborhood populated mostly with people of Cuban descent. "Well, we can't just blend in around here." Raylan proclaimed.

"Yeah. I think the whole neighborhood knows we're here." Jennifer replied slowly.

"Pull up to the house across the street." Raylan directed. "We'll go talk to them. Show your badge, I'll leave mine in my pocket."

Jennifer nodded. "Are you thinking we can camouflage our real interest?"

"I figure lots of folks around here have some kinda dealing' with the law. Good or bad. Nobody's gonna panic yet. They just wanna see where we go." Raylan said as they pulled up.

"Yeah, thats what I said. Camouflage." Jennifer affirmed.

"You do the talkin' and I'll nosy around and see if any of the neighbors take an interest." Raylan said as he scanned the immediate area.

As they walked up the path, they heard a large dog barking from within. Jennifer held up her badge as she rang the bell. She was quickly greeted with a firm, "What you want?"

"Put the dog up and step outside." Raylan said and placed his hand on the butt of his pistol. There was some commotion and growling and in a few moments the door was opened revealing a large Cuban man in his late forties.

"So, what you want, huh?" the man asked from behind a screen door.

Raylan could smell the faint aroma of marijuana through the door. This was not going how he hoped. They needed to get this guy outside and get the dog calmed down. "Look, I need you out here, without the dog, so's I know you ain't gotta a shotgun or something ready to shoot at us." Raylan said eyeing the man. "If I gotta come in there and that dog looks like its gonna bite, I'm gonna shoot it. Thats gonna piss me off 'cause I like dogs more'n I like people."

The two men stood eyeing one another for a long minute. Raylan was sure that this guy was a confirmed shit-bag. Nothing 'potential' about him. But, he wasn't the shit-bag they were after today.

"Look, we just need to ask you some questions about a car that went missing a few blocks away. If we go inside, we have to do something about that weed smell. If we stand out here…" Jennifer said looking around searchingly, "we can't really figure out where it's coming from."

The man seemed to relax a bit and made his way through the screen door while yelling for someone in the house to take the dog. "Thats some bullshit. I didn't have nothin' to do with no car. I already gotta car." He said as soon as he the door was closed and the dog was mostly silent.

Raylan put his back to a wall near the door so he could swivel his head and see the man, in the door of the house, and directly across the street. Jennifer was doing a good job grilling the man about some imaginary car theft while he made several observational circuits. From inside the door he could smell the weed stench getting a bit stronger. They needed to get out of here soon before this turned into something else. The man, though animated at times, was calm now that he was sure he didn't do what they were there for. As he made another pass he caught a glimpse of a short Cuban man with pressed beige slacks and bright yellow shoes walk far too casually to an old white Mercedes convertible. That was their guy. Right down to the yellow shoes.

"Well Ramon, you'll call us if you hear anything about the Buick, right?" Raylan said cutting him off.

"Yeah, man. I'll call." The man said as Raylan and Jennifer turned abruptly and walked quickly back to her car.

"Which way?" Jennifer said as she started the car.

"Looks like he was leaving the neighborhood. 80's, white Mercedes convertible." Raylan said as the car lurched off. This time, traffic worked in their favor, the Mercedes was well within their sights once they turned on the major street adjacent to the neighborhood. Raylan was impressed with her tailing technique. He wasn't sure about her insistence on driving at first but, he had to admit, she had skills. After a brief stop at a convenience store they found themselves heading towards the ocean.

"Where were the marina's?" Jennifer asked as she drove.

Raylan pulled up a map on his phone and after a few moments fumbling located the marina's. "Yep. That's where we're goin'."

—

Duncan ordered two cappuccino's and found a small out of the way table on the nearly vacant veranda overlooking the ocean. He hadn't had a chance to get a full update from Joe. A few moments into the call Daniel had entered the room confused by his absence.

"Sorry Daniel, I just went to get a cup of tea and found myself talking to a lovely doctor. I must have lost track of time." Duncan had told him.

Daniel immediately smiled and glanced out the window at the still seated Dr. Buckley. "Yeah, she is lovely." He said admiringly. A few moments passed before he it shook off and returned to business. "I have to go and help with some other aspects of the investigation. When are you planning on leaving to go home?" he asked.

"Not for a while. I'm afraid we still have a fair amount of ground to cover at the University. I've made arrangements to stay for a month more."

Daniel looked happy and a little surprised. "Really? The hotel will let you stay that long?"

Duncan smiled and shook his head. "No Daniel. I've rented a villa on Hibiscus Island. It's called the Hibiscus Jewel. I've only seen pictures but it looks relaxing."

"Hibiscus Island. Wow!" Daniel said a little in shock.

Duncan looked pleased. "Oh, you know it? Good. Is it quiet?"

"Uh. Well." Daniel blushed, "I've never been there. It's… nicer than… uh, I can afford."

Duncan admonished himself. Of course he could't afford to live there. If Duncan had actually been paying for house it would have cost him nearly five thousand dollars a night. But, as luck would have it, he owned several properties in Miami. Of course that ownership was shielded by many layers of obscurity. There was no way for anyone to truly link him to it. A few phone calls had the 'actual owner' offering up the home for a long time friend.

"Sorry Daniel, I didn't mean to sound so… snooty." Duncan admitted. Duncan began packing up his things. "I'll email you the address and phone number in case you need me. If I hear more from Norway, I'll let you know."

As soon as he was in his rental car Duncan called Joe and made arrangements to meet at a cafe near the bridge to Hibiscus Island.

Joe arrived at the same time as the cappuccino's. He eyed them oddly as he sat down. "Cappuccino? I thought you were on a strict tea thing."

"I go astray from time to time. So, is this the guy that claimed to be Detective Foster?" Duncan said as he passed his phone across the table to Joe. He had managed to snap a surreptitious shot of a photo of Jim Longworth.

"Yeah, thats him alright." Joe confirmed. "I guess your were right. He's still in town."

Duncan nodded. "Yeah and helping to search for someone. Did you see anyone else?"

"There was a man sitting in a parked car. But, I couldn't make him out." Joe recounted.

Duncan smiled. "Well, at least we know it was a man in the car. That narrows the field a bit."

"Yeah, and if they were there, they know about the Watchers." Joe reasoned.

"Did you shake Longworth's hand or give him any way to notice your tattoo?" Duncan asked.

Joe thought for a moment and then shook his head in frustration. "We didn't shake hands. The tattoo is hidden under my watch band." Joe turned over his wrist to show the tightly fastened watch band. The majority of the tattoo was covered but enough remained to suggest a circular wrist tattoo. "But he's a trained observer. So, hell I don't know. Maybe."

Duncan thought for a moment. "Were you followed here?"

"I ran five surveillance detection routes before I felt safe enough to stop here." Joe paused in momentary thought. "So, Not unless he put an electronic tracker on my car."

"Like the one's you put on my rental car and my cars at home?" Duncan asked while smiling.

Joe smirked around his response. "Yeah, something like those."

"He didn't have time. Is it possible that he could think he interrupted you before you found the journal?" Duncan asked.

"Lets see." Joe said and rose. "I'll go get the journal and you can see if you can see it the way I hid it." Joe stood and walked about 20 feet away and stopped. Then he turned and headed back to the table.

Duncan looked confused. "Aren't you going to get the book?" he asked.

An enormous smile broke out on Joes face. "Mac, I've been carrying around a journal almost every day since I was twenty two years old. A journal nobody else is supposed to read or even know exists." He said and reached behind his back. Duncan could see his shirt move and some slight tugging. When Joe's hand came back into view he held a journal.

Duncan smiled brightly as Joe regained his seat. "Bravo Joe! I think we can safely say that he doesn't think you finished your inspection. That may be why he let you leave. He's a patient and methodical man. He'll be watching the apartment, waiting for you to come back."

Joe's brow furrowed and a frown slowly materialized. "You want me to go back there an lead him somewhere." Duncan nodded in response.

"I don't get it. That can't be what they're after." Joe said firmly.

"It's one of the things they are after. It may or may not lead to who they are after. I think whoever is teaching Jim Longworth wants to know how much of himself and his quest is documented in that book." Duncan said and the pointed to the journal. "Have you read it yet?"

A very stern and serious look came over Joe's face. "Listen, Mac, there are some rules not even I will break. I can't let you read this."

Duncan returned the mans gaze with equal seriousness. "Joe, I'm not asking you to. I would never presume to put you in that position. But, I think you need to read the past several years carefully and see if you can suss out who this guy might be." Duncan took a sip of his cappuccino and let the silence linger as he watched a bitter battle of internal conflicts rage in the eyes and face of his friend. "Joe, was Le Carne a detective in his life?"

The question momentarily snapped Joe out of his mental calculus. "Yeah, Scotland Yard in the 1890's." A look of sudden astonishment overtook him. "Jesus Mac, how'd I miss that connection?"

"I saw a picture of the head that belonged to the second immortal. It was Howard Throckmorton." Duncan revealed.

Joe retreated into his memories of Duncan's past and had it in a few moments. "The man that Amanda plays cat and mouse with?" he asked. Duncan again nodded in response. "He was a Pinkerton and a Detective in Chicago in the 1950's." He relayed.

"I knew he was a Pinkerton." Duncan would have said more but noticed something else written in Joe's expression. "What is it Joe?"

"They both knew Amanda. Le Carne had suspected her of a jewel heist and challenged her. They were set to meet at night outside of the city. As the account goes, the real thief was caught trying to fence the stuff to a pawn shop in Kansas City. Le Carne showed up and offered his apology and a bottle of 1894 Ricasoli Brolio."

Duncan smiled ruefully. "I remember that bottle. We drank it in 1914 in her apartment in Paris. The next day she left without a word. It was three days later that I discovered she had stolen an oil painting by Peter Paul Rubens from a man that lived directly below her."

Joe grinned briefly and then sobered. "Can all of this be to draw her out?"

"The police say Throckmorton, now called Sean Holcombe, had a girlfriend named Amanda Cooper." Duncan relayed.

"Well that's a hell of a coincidence." Joe said skeptically.

"There's a kicker here Joe. Holcombe's sword…. It was stolen from a Museum in Norway." Duncan said and watched the look of incredulity dawn on his companions face.

"Trondheim?" Joe said immediately. "The viking sword?" Duncan nodded again. "Mac, it has to be about her." Joe's eyes widened with understanding. "This guy wants these killings and their special circumstances to go public. He wants to draw her to him." He reasoned.

"That's the way I see it." Duncan confirmed.

"You need to warn her." Joe replied instantly.

"I know. But I have no idea where or how to reach her." He said with frustration evident in his voice. "It's not like she keeps a single address or a cell phone. She's a ghost."

Duncan saw Joe looking at him expectantly. He knew the best play would be to out wait him. He'd come to it in his own time. As the momentary silence drew Duncan contented himself with sipping his cappuccino.

"Damnit Mac, even if I could find out where she is I couldn't tell you how to reach her." Joe finally blurted.

"Perhaps you could just find out where she is and when she moves." He suggested casually. "Perhaps you could even warn her Watcher that a trip to Florida might in the cards soon."

Joe sniggered. "She doesn't have a Watcher." Joe said with a smile growing on his lips."She has four."

Duncan laughed. "She is hard to keep up with."

The men sat quietly for a few moments. Duncan finally decided that sometimes Joe just needed a nudge. "Listen Joe, if it does turn out that she is coming to Florida, this could win you some credit." Duncan tried.

Joe nodded introspectively. "OK. I'll make a call. But I'm only going to tell you when or if she makes a move."

"Fair enough." Duncan responded feeling pleased with himself. The easy part was over. Now the harder part.

"What I don't get.." Began Joe.

Duncan interrupted his thought. "Why he needs detectives?"

"Yeah." Joe said with obvious bewilderment.

"Because she stole something from him. He thinks its here, in southern Florida and he wants it back." Duncan offered.

Joe nodded. "Yeah and he doesn't care how big a scene he causes to get it."

"So, I have to stop him before Jim Longworth either finds it or proves he cannot." Duncan expressed.

"You think he'll kill him either way?" Joe asked incredulously.

"Yes Joe, I do." Duncan said and paused to finish his cappuccino. "From what I can gather, Jim Longworth liked working alone. That means they will most likely split up the stake out duties. Even immortals have to sleep."

Joe went rigid as Duncan continued. "So, that's why your going to drive by the apartment again. Make two or three passes and then 'think better of it' and drive away."

Joe frowned again. "Then I pick up the tail and lead them to some secluded out of the way place?" he said sardonically.

Duncan's face was impassive. "No Joe. Your going to drive to Trinity Episcopal Cathedral. Park, enter, and find a pew. Lets see who shows up."

—

Colleen and Art had driven in absolute silence for nearly twenty minutes. Art was trying to think of something to say in order to break the ice when she suddenly asked, "Why is it that you and Marshal Givins are so adversarial?"

Art smiled. "Well, that's complicated."

Colleen nodded. "I understand complicated." She said and looked prepared to drop the subject.

Art pondered it for a moment. This was probably the best opportunity he was going to get at stoking a conversation. "For starters, we're both from Harlan county Kentucky. Which is about the sorriest shit hole in the entire world. Most folks from there never leave. Not 'cause they don't want to but because they can't. So, initially, we had that bond."

"You both made it out." Colleen said showing she followed the logic.

Art nodded in agreement. "We taught shootin' together at the academy for a while and got along pretty well. So we both went about our career. I heard things about him here and there. Nothin' to crazy. Then, while I was runnin' the Lexington office, I hear that he got himself in a bind in Florida and needed a transfer. So I grabbed him."

"Was he happy to come home?' Colleen asked.

"No. He was not." Art responded quickly. "His former best buddy was a guy named Boyd Crowder. Boyd was third generation bad news. They started at each other and I got really good at filing after action reports and talking with federal prosecutors."

Colleen smiled. "Was it really that bad?"

Art frowned. "Hell if told you half the shit that went down you'd call me a liar." Art half smiled as looked out the window. "He once threw a bullet at a mobster. Then told him 'the next one's commin' faster."

Colleen laughed. "Your kidding."

"Wish I was. I'd probably look like that MacLoed fella if Raylan never came back to Kentucky." Art joked. "What do you make of that guy? That whole thing is a little weird right?"

Colleen nodded. "Yeah. It is a little strange. But, I can't see how he could be involved. Normally, I get suspicious of coincidences. But, I think this is a legitimate one. He seems more than willing to cooperate. Daniel says he has really been helpful. "

Art breathed a little easier. This was good. She wasn't going to look to close at MacLoed. That was at least one future headache he didn't have worry about.

"This is it." Colleen said as they stopped in front of a Dentists office. "You sure about this?"

"This is where Callie said to start. Richard's sister is a hygienist here. Apparently, she used to help him out whenever the law was lookin' for him." Art relayed.

"Ok." Colleen responded and they made their way into see the hygienist. They had just entered when they were greeted with a very matter of fact statement from a petite woman in pink scrubs. "I still don't now where he is. I told the other detective I would call if he came around and I will."

Colleen wasn't stymied for long. After a very quick pause she asked, "What other detective?"

The woman gave a frustrated and impatient glare in reply.

Art froze. Longworth had been here. That had to be it. "Oh, you mean Foster?" he managed.

"Yeah, that was him." The woman confirmed angrily. "Like I told him, that worthless prick deserves prison. If you find him, I'll tell you some shit that'll keep him there until he's fifty."

Art thought quick and grabbed a business card from the counter and rapidly wrote down his cell phone number as he spoke. "Listen, Foster is one of my guys and he was just stopping in because he was in the neighborhood. You can go ahead and give me a call if you hear from Richard."

Colleen silently produced a card and handed it to the woman who tok it with an eye roll. "Fine. I gotta get back to work before I get fired." She said and then turned and stomped away.

Colleen looked confused as they walked to the car. "My Foster? How did he beat us here."

"Uh, no. It was Deputy Marshal Foster. I checked in before we left and gave them the full list. Dan told me Marshal Foster was in the area. I guess he sent him over to check it out." Art said in explanation.

Colleen now looked perturbed . "I didn't know you sent the list over to the Marshals."

Now Art cold shift gears into familiar ground. "This is still your investigation. But, we got rules on letting our service know where it's deputies are what they're doin'. That ain't gonna change."

Colleen relaxed. "You right. Sorry. I'm getting to protective. I just have this bad feeling that you guys are going to declare this whole thing your and cut us out."

"Not on my watch." Art expressed sincerely. "I still gotta a few favors owed me. If it comes down to it, I'll cash 'em in for this."

Colleen smiled appreciatively. "You would, wouldn't you?"

Art nodded. "I told you. This is your investigation. 100%. We're here to help. That's it."

This seems to satisfy her for the moment. Art consulted his list and hit on the next address. "Now we go see the uncle."

—

Jennifer pulled into the Marina parking at the farthest end away from where the Mercedes had entered. They parked and watched yellow shoes walk down the towards the boat docks. They got out of the car and followed at a discrete distance watching yellow shoes enter a gate code and pass through the gate.

"How are we going to get in there?" she asked as she noticed Raylan had pulled out his cell phone"

"We call the Coast Guard." He murmured. After a few moments he spoke in what for him were urgent tones. "This is Deputy U.S. Marshal Givins for Commander Herndon. It's urgent." A few moments passed as the waited on the line and watched as yellow shoes made shuffled along towards a long dock where other boats of smaller size were moored.

"Hey Pete. Listen I'm at the Grove Harbor marina. I need the gate code if you got it." Raylan said hurriedly. "Also, you got any patrols near here?"

Givins listened for minute and then reached up and punched in a five digit code. The gate gave a metallic click and after holding the gate open for Jennifer to enter first Givins followed. If nothing else he was a gentleman. It was evident to her that the boats the man was walking towards had only been recently launched as looming to her left were huge multi tiered dry dock carousels. Givins kept the phone to his ear. "It might work. Are those things fast? There ain't one of these boats thats got less than two engines hangin' off 'em."

Jennifer smiled a bit. She had a strong feeling that if it wasn't a bass boat the cowboy was probably clueless. Those were off shore fishing boats the man was heading towards. "Remind me to thank him for wearing those shoes." She remarked.

Raylan grinned. "Yeah, mighty kind on him. We need to get closer and see if we can get a description and name of the boat he's gettin' on."

They made their way casually towards the dock. Raylan still held the phone to his ear. Together they watched intently as yellow shoes paused and then launched himself into one of the boats. "Well, it's a white boat. Fishing' boat I think." Raylan said into the phone.

Jenner smiled and pulled him out of the way as two men passed pulling huge coolers. "It's a SeaVee 390. Its called 'Not pallamos' written in calligraphic scroll." She said as she gazed down at the man busily prepping the boat. "Doesn't look like he's dressed for fishing."

Raylan looked oddly at her. "Here, tell Pete all that." He said and handed her the phone.

Jennifer turned and gazed down at the dock and repeated what she had said to the Coast Guard Commander. As she spoke another man pulling a third cooler moved passed. "OK, hold on, I'll let you ask him." She said as she turned back to Givins.

His face was stern. His eyes were locked and his pupils were dilating. These things she instantly registered. His left arm shot out and grabbed her savagely but the shoulder and pulled her off balance as his right hand drew his gun. She heard the ear pricing snap of the first round leaving his weapon just as she noticed the pristine bullet hole appear in the sign just behind Givins.

She hit the ground and rolled simultaneously finding cover and pulling her weapon from her holster. Giving wasn't cowering. He was walking calmly forward as more rounds came flying up at him from the dock where the two men with the pull coolers wildly fired off rounds as they tried desperately to get to the boat. The man in yellow shoes was yelling at them to hurry. That is when she saw the body of her would be killer. He lay sprawled out not three feet away from where she stood. A pool of blood began collecting from around his head.

She shook herself and with effort began returning fire. She wasn't sure which one of them scored the first hit but she was certain she had hit one of them square in the chest. The other lay in the boat clutching at his leg. The men now in the boat, yellow shoes hit full throttle and the boat roared away.

"You OK?" she heard him ask. She was still sighting down the barrel of her gun at the fleeing boat. She didn't make a sound.

"Hey, are you alright?" Givins said with deep concern. "Are you hit?"

Again she just stood there sighting down the barrel. Slowly she lowered and re-holstered the weapon. Her eyes searched for and quickly found the lifeless face of the dead man nearly at her feet. She wasn't sure when or how but severel moments later she found herself wrapped in Givins arms as he spoke softly and soothingly to her. After a moment she straightened composed herself.

"What happened"? She asked with far more steadiness to her voice than she felt.

Givins took a breathe and pointed down the dock towards the two abandoned coolers. "I saw them waive to yellow shoes." He said and then turned to indicate the dead man closer to them. "He was eye'n my gun as he walked up. Then I saw his face change as soon as you said 'Nos pallamos'. His hand reached and I saw him pull somethin' out of his waist under his shirt. I started pullin' on you and drawn' down on him as quick as I could manage. Nearly got me." Givins concluded.

Jennifer looked at the mans hand and for the first time registered the 9mm Glock held tight in his grip. In the silence they head yelling coming from the discarded phone.

Givins walked over and picked it up. "Were fine." He said into it reassuringly. "Got two dead assholes here and a couple more in whatever the hell that boat was headin' out to sea." He paused for a moment as Pete spoke. "One's injured. Shot in the leg. The others fine." Another pause and then, "Well, I'd kinda like the one in yellow shoes alive. If the other one give you trouble… well thats your call."

As he hung up a gloom overtook his features. His brow contracted and a deep sense of foreboding permeated from him. It was enough to give her a mild start. "What is it?" she asked concernedly.

"I gotta call Dan. He aint gonna like this." Givins said sarcastically.

"There was no choice." She found herself saying. "You saved my life. If you hadn't…" Jennifer lost her ability to speak as she the hole in the sign was head height. A shiver ran through her again.

The cowboy seemed none the more convinced. "He still ain't gonna like it." Givins mumbled as he fumbled for Dan's contact information.

—

Colleen was in the lead when they arrived at the uncles house. She politely showed her badge and asked if they could speak for a few moments regarding Richard and Dianne. As it happened, the uncle was an asshole. An asshole that really hated cops. He began by ordering them off his property. They complied, begrudgingly as he ushered them to the end of the walkway and looked on as he closed and locked the fence gate.

"Please, we would just like to ask you a couple of questions." Colleen said almost pleadingly. The man answered by giving them the bird and then walked back to his porch. "I could get a warrant." She said a little moe sternly. The man ignored her as he dropped into a patio chair and pulled a beer out of a red cooler.

Art took a look around. The house was well maintained for the area. It needed painting and a new driveway but it was easily the nicest house for a couple of blocks. "The windows are clean." Art said quietly.

Colleen looked at him oddly. "What?"

"The windows, they're clean." Art repeated. "The lawns mowed. Roofs been redone a couple of years ago and those flowers are all perennials."

Colleen looked at the house again confirming his observations. "OK, I'm not sure how that helps us."

Art spoke loudly as he gestured around him, "This ain't a great neighborhood. It's kinda scary. I'm not sure I we feel all the safe." Art paused and winked at Colleen and then continued. "If we gotta get a warrant, I think we'll have to get SWAT to serve it." Art nodded as if confirming it to himself. He then reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Yeah, I definitely don't feel safe."

The man on the porch looked a little skeptical at first. Then, as he watched Art dialing, he started getting nervous. As Art ws making a real show of being connected to the SWAT commander the man got up and walked down the path.

"Hold on" he said angrily as he approached. "I don't know where he is."

Art was pleased with himself. Colleen, he noted, was done being nice. Now she was pissed.

She stared at the man for a few moments and shook her head. "No, I don't believe you." She glanced at Art, "I think their in there. Get SWAT here now."

It was all Art could do to keep the smile off his face as he nodded and stepped a couple of feet away. "Commander Jackson, it looks like we are going to have to run a warrant at my location. We're gonna need two teams. Door knockers and and a full property search."

"Whoa, hold the hell on a second." The man said holding his hands up. "You don't need all that. They're not here. You can come in and look for yourselves." He reached down and opened the garden fence gate. "They're not here."

Colleen squinted as she inspected the mans face. "I'm going to need backup to got in there."

The man looked nearly panicked. "No you don't. I'm the only one home. I swear. I'm just an asshole when it comes to the government."

Art noticed a sweat breaking out on his face as he was nodding his head in imagined response to the imaginary conversation he was having on his phone. "Yes, I filed for the warrant this morning. I'll have a uniform meet us here with a copy and you can get started." Art said laying it on thick.

The man was nearly shaking now. "OK, OK! Listen they aren't here now but they were earlier. I let them stay the night and they left by ten. I swear to you they aren't here."

"Did they leave anything behind?" Colleen asked.

"No, nothing. They're driving a green Jeep Cherokee. Alabama plates. Honestly, that's all I know." The man pleaded.

Art put his phone away and announced, "Twenty minutes."

"Shit man. Uh, I think they called someone. Scott or something. Made plans to go see Scott about getting money. Thats it." The man barked.

"OK, and I can come in and take a look around?" Art said sternly.

"Yeah. Sure, come on in." The man affirmed and lead Art up the path. Colleen followed him a few steps behind.

The interior was clean and tidy. Art's eye was drawn to several fragile looking curio cabinets and their porcelain contents. He had to smile inwardly, one flash bang would probably have destroyed them all. That wouldn't have gone over well with the wife he imagined.

"Where'd they stay?" Art asked.

"Down the hall, first room on the right." The man replied instantly. Art motioned for him to lead the way and soon they were standing in the small bedroom. Colleen placed herself in the hallway and kept Art and the now docile man in the room.

Art began looking around. "Did you vacuum in here after they left?" he asked.

"My wife did. She's kind of particular." He replied aptly.

They moved out of the room and the man lead Art throughout the remainder of the house and garage. "OK, I'm satisfied for now." Art said as they stood again in the living room. "But if they call you, I expect you to call us. If you don't or I so much as suspect they are here again, the next time you see us we'll be accompanied by twenty five guys in black totin' machine guns and a flagrant disregard for personal property."

The man involuntarily closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. "I don't owe them anything. I'll call you."

Art smiled congenially as Colleen handed the man her card. "Good. We hope to hear from you."

As Art climbed in the car he noticed Colleen was grinning. "That was clever. Very clever." She said and then her phone began ringing. She pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID and smiled. "It's Jennifer, I've got to tell her about this.' She answered and her face went from happy to concerned in the blink of an eye. Art had little time to react as his phone began to ring as well. He fished it out and saw that it was Dan calling. As he answered he heard Colleen say "OK, are you alright?"

Art frowned as he answered, "He shot somebody didn't he?"

—

Joe muttered quietly to himself as he made three passes by the apartment over about fifteen minutes. Then, he pulled up a little way down the street so he could pretend to observe it. He stayed in the car just watching for several minutes and then got out and stare down the street. He stood there for a few minutes letting a look of struggled indecision paint his face. Then he shook his head and got back in the car. As soon as he was driving away he called MacLeod.

"I should get an oscar." He said proudly.

"Do you have a tail?" Mac asked.

"Not sure yet. I'll make a couple of half assed surveillance detection turns. Just to make sure." He replied.

There was a pause. "Did you notice anyone on the street?" Mac asked without inflection.

"Not really. But I did't see him the first time either. Its possible he just lucked upon me." Joe replied as he made his first attempt at detecting a tail. "I don't see anything yet."

"Don't do another. Just drive straight here." Mac said suddenly.

"Why? Don't we want them to think he's good at this?" asked Joe.

"You said that last time you didn't notice them, right? But when you walked out it was obvious?" Mac said questioningly.

"Yeah, thats right. The mystery guy was in the drivers seat." Joe recalled.

"That settles it. If he was the good one, you wouldn't have spotted him from the window or when you came out. If you didn't notice a tail, your not going to. Lets not give him time to get the other guy involved. Get back here as quick as you can. He's going to follow. Then, maybe I'll get to talk to him before the other one shows up." Duncan reasoned.

Joe drove nearly straight to the cathedral and parked in a garage across the street. He crossed over the pedestrian bridge that linked the it to the Sealine Marina complex. Still he could detect no tail. Sadly, he thought, this was a wasted effort. However, he didn't pause or otherwise let his pessimism slow his purpose. He walked as directly as possible through the complex and out onto the street corner. As luck would have it, there were close to two dozen other people walking in the area. That combined with his need for haste were not ideal for detecting surveillance, not ideal at all. Still he tried to make note of faces and demeanors. Nothing stood out. Nothing pinged his senses. He was now almost certain this attempt had failed.

He crossed the street and entered the cathedral. His eye was immediately drawn to a sign prominently displayed, it read 'Closed for Private Engagement'. He smiled and wondered how big a contribution Mac had to make for this kind of alone time. He found a seat in the center by the isle and rested. Soon after he took the seat MacLeod emerged from behind a column off the right isle.

"Did you see anyone?" Duncan asked him as he continued to walk down the right isle towards the entrance to the cathedral.

"No. I think it's a bust. They must not be watching the place." Joe said letting his shoulders sag. "Maybe we caught them during the call of nature, I don't know."

MacLoed came from the back walking up the center isle towards Joe. "Maybe. Perhaps we should…." The buzz overtook him. Every hair on his body stood to attention. His pulse quickened. He felt a surge of adrenaline permeate through his body. He smiled.

"What is it Mac?" Joe asked as he registered the sudden interruption of his friends thought.

In answer Duncan addressed the room "I am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod and you I presume are Jim Longworth." There was no answer. "I assure you, we are quite alone. I wanted to talk to you before your teacher arrives." Again silence greeted him.

Duncan turned in place eyeing the room. He closed his eyes and listened. There it was, breathing. Its pace was quick and nervous. Someone was scared and unsure what to do.

"Why does this place feel strange. Its different from everywhere else." A voice asked.

Duncan frowned. He should have been taught the rules by now. "This is Holy ground. It is our only refuge. Within Holy ground, you can not be challenged. This is where we talk, not fight." Duncan instructed. "Haven't you been taught this already?"

There was no reply. The man's voice came from the right isle towards the rear of the nave. "If you have not received that most basic instruction, what else are you kept blind too?" Duncan asked. "Jim, I'm not sure what you have been told. But there are rules. Rules you need to know in order to survive. I know this is all overwhelming. I remember that feeling well."

Again Duncan was greeted with silence.

"The man teaching you is not your friend Jim. He is killing immortals and leaving there remains exposed without regard to keeping our true nature secret. He is doing this to draw out another immortal. He has killed two so far."

"Three" the voice said harshly.

Duncan felt a lump in his throat. Please, let it not be Amanda. "You know what he is doing isn't right." Duncan stated flatly. Again, no reply came. "Jim, we haven't much time now do we? He is on his way here, right?" Silence. "OK, for now, I'll just give you an update. Jody Cargil has been arrested for your murder. Callie is…"

"Do not say her name!" yelled the voice as Jim Longworth darted into the light from behind a column. "He said you would try to use her. To manipulate me. If you touch her I'll kill you." The seething anger rolled in waves over his face.

Duncan stood still and and spoke calmly. "I would never do that Jim. I am working with the FDLE. Working with Daniel and Colleen to help find your killer. We both know Jody Cargil didn't do it. You're a trained investigator Jim. You know when someone is being dishonest with you. Am I being honest?"

Jus as Jim was about to answer they both felt the additional buzz overwhelm their senses. Both men looked to the rear as the doors opened and a man entered. Duncan registered the lithe gait and hardened gaze of a warrior. His searching eyes found Jim first and then settled on Duncan.

The two men stood facing each other fifteen feet apart. Neither man blinking. Each taking the full measure of the other. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod."

A sneer fell across the mans face. "A clansman with a pet Watcher." Joe bristled at the comment but kept facing the choir and stayed silent.

"Wait for me outside." The man said while still eyeing MacLeod.

"Why should he?" asked Duncan. "Afraid he'll hear our conversation and start putting things together?"

"No. I've told him how manipulative her accomplices will be. He's seen it." The man snarled.

"With whom? Le Carne or Holcomb? Or the third you killed recently." Duncan challenged.

At that the man shot a glare at Longworth. "You've said too much."

"He didn't know about Holy ground. Does he know the other rules. Are you teaching him to survive or using him for your own ends." Duncan asked for Jim's benefit.

"We are leaving." The man said rigidly. "If you stay out of my way, you'll keep your head. If you don't…"

"Fine. You name the place and time and I'll be there." Duncan retorted.

"You said no-one could challenge you here." Jim questioned.

"See, I told you. Manipulative." The man responded with a thin smile.

"That wasn't a challenge. It was an appointment." Duncan said with gritted teeth.

The man turned to leave. "Come along. We'll meet this one in due time."

Duncan watched as the two men made their way towards the door. "Jim, Le Carne and Holcomb were cops. Detectives." Duncan said just shy of a pleading tone. "A Pinkerton and Scotland Yard. He has you looking for something. As soon as you find it he'll kill you like he did them."

Longworth froze. His head still turned away. Duncan could see the doubt in his stance. It fell from him in torrents with every breath.

"Lies. The silver tongued devil is masterful at weaving lies. Focus on the task at hand and do not let yourself be swayed by them." the man instructed harshly and ushered Longworth from the room.

Several long minutes passed as Duncan stared at the doors, deep in thought. He was pulled from it only by Joe's voice close behind him.

"I don't know Mac. He's got a real hold on him." Joe observed. "Do you think it was enough?"

"It was enough to sew the seeds of doubt. Longworth already knows the truth. He's just too confused to see it." Duncan relayed.

"Yeah. Maybe. Lets just hope he comes around before this guys done with him." Joe said

Duncan nodded slowly. "You can stay with me on Hibiscus Island. Go and get your things." Duncan handed Joe a piece of paper with the address. Joe looked skeptical. "He knows who you are now Joe. Your hotel isn't safe anymore."

Joe seemed to ponder that for a moment. "Ok" he said and started for the door.

"Joe" Macleod called as the other opened the door. "We need to find Amanda."

—

The scene was one of organized chaos. Police cars and news crews dotted the area. Raylan and Jennifer leaned against a fence just inside the marina watching the crime scene techs and coroners going about their work. Raylan was stewing on his conversation with Dan.

"Why are you calling me so soon Raylan?" Dan said as soon as he picked up. "What happened?"

Shit, this was already not going well. "Ran into some trouble at a marina."

"Trouble? You mean you shot somebody, right?" Dan said expectantly.

Raylan rolled his eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah, I shot somebody."

"Is he dead?" Dan asked without emotion.

"Yeah. Two dead, one wounded. He got away on a boat with a fourth guy. Coast Guards runnin' 'em down now." Raylan reported and was fully aware of Jennifer's eyes on him. He always hated making these calls. He knew they all thought he was some gun slinging throwback. But it wasn't like he had a choice.

There was a long pause on the phone. "Are you shot?" Dan asked stoically.

"No" he replied.

"Did Starke get shot?" Dan asked.

"No", he replied.

"Was it justifiable?" Dan asked and then cut off any word of reply. "I mean to say that it damn well better be justifiable Raylan. As in the goddamned ACLU better write a letter to the Miami Herald entitled, 'U.S. Marshal forced to shoot two crazed terrorists after trying every other method known to man to not shoot them.' Is that tomorrows headline Raylan?"

"Thats a little long for a headline." Raylan replied and was surprised when the line disconnected. "Well, shit."

"That didn't go well." Jennifer remarked.

"Nope" he murmured.

That was over an hour ago. Jennifer had called Colleen and explained it all in vivid detail. She even recounted Raylan's conversation with his boss. Then, as the uniforms and Miami Homicide showed up they found themselves repeating the details several times and promising to send over detailed reports. Then, they just stepped back to a spot on the fence and watched.

Raylan heard Colleen greet Jennifer as her and Art arrived. Art said nothing. He just walked past and stood looking at first body and then down to the dock where evidence markers showed where the second bad guy was killed. After a few minutes Raylan came over to stand by Art.

"Go ahead. Say it." Raylan murmured.

Art bent down to examine the the body and then turned to look at the sign with the bullet hole through it. Jennifer and Collen approached and Art turned to look at Jennifer and then back to the hole. "How close was he?" Art asked.

Jennifer replied immediately, "Four feet. My back was too him. He was using me as a shield to get the drop on both of us."

Art nodded. "Yeah. Your damn lucky."

Jennifer smiled and looked to Raylan. "I don't think it was luck."

Raylan kept his eye on Art. His face was impassive. That was probably a good thing. Those frowns meant trouble. The last damn thing he needed was to get transferred out of Miami. He had a feeling that entirely depended on what Art told Dan.

Art turned and looked down the pier. "How far is that, eighty yards?"

"About fifty or so to the marker and another fifteen to where the boat was." Raylan answered. Art's only reply was a nod.

"How many shots did they fire at you?" Colleen asked as she too surved the scene.

"Not sure." Raylan replied.

"At least twelve but more like twenty." Jennifer quickly answered. "I've been trying to count them from memory but it's a little blurry."

"Im told the guns dropped in the water. Did you tell the locals where to look?" Art asked Raylan. Raylan just stared back in reply.

"Yes, we did. They have a diver getting suited up to go look for them and shell casings." Jennifer supplied.

Still looking Raylan in the eye Art asked, "So you shot one in the leg?"

"Yes." Jennifer replied at the same instant Raylan said, "No."

Raylan indicated Jennifer, "She shot him in the leg I was aimin' to hit the engines."

"Outboard?" Art asked.

"Yes. Listen, Art, it was a good shooting." Jennifer said with feeling.

She was greeted with a noncommittal ,"Yeah." From Art.

That really seemed to piss her off. Raylan couldn't help smiling as Jennifer actually took two steps closer to Art and changed her tone from friendly conversational to something like angrily indignant. "We had no choice. There was no cover and there were three of them. If he hadn't pulled me out of the way, I'd be laying dead with a marker by my head right now."

Art immediately relented. "I'm sorry. I'm not tryin' to piss you off. I just have to be real clear on the facts. It's important."

"Why?" She blurted. "Because your all so eager to assume he likes to go around shooting everyone? Thats bullshit Art. I watched him save my life and shoot back while telling some people walking our way to take cover. Hell, I didn't even notice they were there. He stepped to the side to draw the fire away. Jesus, he should get a freakin' medal not a damned inquisition!"

Art nodded. And looked around. He spotted something and pointed up to it. "Did the locals go get the security tapes?" he asked.

Jennifer was still angry and resentful and it showed in her retort. "No, because this isn't the 90's. But yes, they are downloading the recordings. I don't understand why your being such an asshole right now." She said angrily.

As Raylan watched, Art's face went from impassive to hurt and then back to impassive. That was the first time he had ever seen that kind of emotion leak out of Art when he had the boss face on.

"He's here to report back to Dan. That'll determine if I get to keep my job or not." Raylan said knowingly and then broke into his familiar retort. "I swear, why don't they just give us guns and then bitch when we gotta use 'em"

Art rounded on him, "fifty yards and you managed what, three in the chest? Damn good shooting. But, I gotta wonder, could you have hit a leg like she did with perp number three at eighty?" Art said as he pointed to Jennifer as he spoke.

Raylan thought for a moment. "I shot him twice in the chest and then went for the engines."

"There were three rounds in his chest, Raylan. We saw him when we were coming in." Art said firmly. "Did you count your rounds?"

Raylan was getting a little pissed himself now. "You know I did."

"I shot him in the chest too." Jennifer intoned. "Then I shot the gun with the gun as he was running away. He had been shooting at us a moment before but tried to make it to the boat."

Both Raylan and Art turned to look at her. Art's face suddenly turned bright. "So he was a significant threat and you both had no choice left to you but lethal force." Art asked. Jennifer nodded and and then she too smiled. "Your sure you hit him?" Art asked tentatively.

"I don't miss." Jennifer said assuredly.

Art nodded and took a few steps away and started dialing his phone.

"What the hell just happened?" Raylan asked.

Colleen smiled. And placed a hand on Raylan's shoulder. "He got the call the same time Jennifer called me. He spent the entire trip over defending you. He talked Dan out of suspending you and told him he would be a fool to transfer you. He really cares about you. It was… touching. Anyway, thank you for saving my friends life. I really don't think I could take another friend being killed right now." Then she reached over and hugged him. Raylan had no idea what to do with his hands. So he just balled them up. Jennifer just smiled and as soon Colleen released him she hugged him too. Hers was longer and tighter. Jesus, she smelled good. As uncomfortable as it was, he kinda wished it would'nt end so quick. The ensuing silence was a little awkward.

After a few minutes Art came back over smiling in his congenial way. "Congratulations, your still a Marshal. Dan says to thank you for keeping a level head and kindly asks that you refrain from shooting anyone else with that particular gun today. He's gonna need you to come in and do the gun and paperwork thing. You know, you should really think about filling out a whole bunch of those ahead of time. It might save some time in the long run."

What the hell was going on here? Raylan just stood slack jawed as Colleen and Jennifer laughed softly. Raylan turned and started walking towards the parking lot.

"Where are you going?" Jennifer called.

"I need ice-cream." He replied.


End file.
